


Home, Again.

by OhBelieveYouMe



Series: Thanks, Tumblr [6]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Love, Marriage, Rape Mentions, Sad junk, Sexual Assault mentions, case stuff, fluffy eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8513764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBelieveYouMe/pseuds/OhBelieveYouMe
Summary: In response to a prompt received earlier:Hi! I really hope you’re still taking requests! I’ve read your All Work & All Play series (I’m dying for the next part to come out!) In the mean time could you please write a Barba x reader where Rafael has a wife, (Y/N), who disappeared two years ago. Barba has tried numerous times to find her with the help of SVU, but the trails always come up cold. When the team busts Johnny D, they find (Y/N) among the girls there and finally Barab and (Y/N) get the reunion they’ve been waiting for.





	1. Prologue / Flashback: Excuses & Sudokus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per Request [HERE](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/155319880677/love-love-loved-your-latest-update-to-home-again),  
> re: **how the two of them (Reader / Barba) first met & got together.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _\- It was one of Rafael’s favorite stories to tell, his favorite memory from College… and one of his most prized fairy tales he’d relay to tether you back to Earth whenever you felt yourself floating away…_

_**From Rafael's Point Of View:** _

What does the studious boy from the Bronx do when he finds time to himself? Sit alone at a coffee shop that made him choke when he read the prices of a cup on the menu board.

“ **Excuse me-** ”

Well, it was hard not to. Typically, someone said ‘excuse me’ when they were asking for something: permission, forgiveness, a moment of someone’s time. At least, that was Rafael Barba’s understanding. 

However, this time, apparently the lack of context changed the meaning.

She was not asking for anything, no- she happily snatched the newspaper right out of his hands. Who did that? He had been minding his own business, sitting at a little cafe in an uncomfortable metal chair and nursing a cup of coffee. It was rare for the law student to get much time to himself, but this particular Thursday- he had absolutely nothing going on for at least three hours.

And he would certainly not _excuse_ her without at least biting back.

“You’re _not_ excused,” he snapped snidely, and leaned forward to try and get a grasp on the newspaper she had just stolen from him. Smartly, she twist at the waist, and managed to move just out of reach; his hand fell hopelessly to the tabletop when the thin material slid through his fingertips. “I was reading that.” 

“Haven’t you heard how nice it is to share?” She was hidden behind the Sports section, Rafael could only see her silhouette illuminated by the afternoon sun shining behind her. In fact, it was blinding, so he squint his eyes and raised a hand above his brow to act as a visor.

He’d heard a lot of things growing up, but that lesson had been lost with time. “Haven’t you heard how it’s rude to steal things?” His berating was confronted with giggling that he hated to admit he adored the sound of. Like champagne pouring over ice, the laughter bubbled boldly and almost even managed to break down his annoyance. Almost.

“Oh, calm down;” She took a seat, a **seat** , in the little chair across from him. His jaw fell at her audacity, and the only true reaction he could muster was pure bewilderment. Unceremoniously, the bold stranger finally sat the newspaper down on the table, but Rafael would have sworn all the air was sucked from the world the moment she did. Coffee? What coffee? The little cup he had wasted six dollars on meant absolutely nothing, even though he didn’t think he’d ever been so thirsty before. She was, to put it bluntly, stunning. Other words poured into his thoughts; immaculate, breathtaking, entrancing- and for some odd reason, an old song he had heard once on the radio began crooning through in the back of his mind. “I’m taking this-” She spoke once more, and eagerly went to ripping his fifty-cent newspaper down the middle of a page.

Maybe he was distracted, but the sharp ripping sound drug him hopelessly back from the daydreams he hadn’t asked for. “Wh- what are you-” Stammering, unlike his earlier sass; the contrast actually convinced the beautiful stranger to perk a brow and look up from her task. She even stopped her tearing, mid-way through a black and white comic. “What are you doing?” Rafael tried to appear more upset, was hoping he could bring back the annoyance he had felt when she initially interrupted his rarely peaceful afternoon. “What are you taking?”

When he took a sharp intake of breath, she smirked, and quickly ripped the rest of the seam before folding her new page-14 and slipping it into a little purse that was hanging at her side. “The Sudoku-” she shrugged, as if it should have been obvious, and the sneaky smirk slid into a smile that stole his breath away when his nose crunched in indignant confusion. “Thursday papers have the best ones.”

Silence. Stony, ultimately awkward silence. Rafael couldn’t decide what to do next: should he engage her, chastise her further for actually stealing some of the paper he had just bought? “Wh-” all he knew was that he couldn’t let her get away without at least trying to learn her name. “What if I wanted that?” Childishly, he crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back in his chair.

Those eyes that were unintentionally hypnotizing him rolled theatrically to the sky, and her bottom lip fell as she sighed. “I’ve heard your speeches- you don’t seem like a Sudoku kinda guy,” her shoulders bobbed, showcasing her apathy, and she splayed her fingertips over the table as she went to rise up and find her footing again. “Anyone as pretentious as you are when explaining _Habeaus Corpus_ is definitely a crossword or Cryptogram kinda guy.”

“Bu-” Oh how he wished he could find those words she was mocking him for. It was true, Rafael would rather write a thesis or play with literature than arrange nine numbers into little squares any day, but for some reason he suddenly found those stupid graphs he ignored rather… interesting. Wait- realization dawned over him just before the bravado to ask her to stay hit his brain; “Wait, we have a class together?”

“Sure do, Barba. Well, kinda-” More of her angelic happiness came from her pout, which she had purposely plumped, and she prodded at his shoulder with three carefully placed fingertips. When did she move to his side? He wasn’t quite certain, but he could smell lavender emanating from her wrist and it took absolutely every bit of composure he possessed to keep from snatching at her hand the same way she had done to his newspaper- suddenly, all he wanted in life was to press his nose to that soft skin and smell more of her scent. “See you soon, sir…”

Just as soon as she arrived, she was gone, and he watched mutely as she fluttered fingertips over her shoulder and trotted off down the street. The cat had caught his tongue and he was too lost in the lavender fields of his fantasies to even consider calling out to her. Mindlessly, he followed the sweet stranger with his eyes, and actually found the ability to exhale and breathe properly once she turned the corner. Rapidly, he racked his brain, and folded up what remained of the messy, unfolded newspaper she had initially stolen from him.

His mind and thoughts finally began to make sense in the aftermath of her disappearance. Legal Definitions, Friday nights. That was the only place he had given a speech regarding Habeaus Corpus, and he had given it three weeks ago. It wasn’t a class, it was more of an optional lecture, you could choose whether or not to attend. He found it useful, and usually made an attempt to be there- but there were hundreds of students who attended and at least ten or so gave voluntary speeches each week.

She had remembered him, though.  
Remembered his speech, enough to call it pretentious.

Rafael finally rose from the little coffee table, politely gathering his trash into the Styrofoam cup so he could properly dispose of it in a waste bin he passed when leaving the little cafe. This was momentous, never since Yelina had he felt this way upon the first time seeing someone, let alone a _girl_. He barely had time to enjoy a cup of coffee, how did he expect to find any time to think about _girls_  now that he was finally at Harvard?

Somehow, though, he found that silly, thieving stranger infiltrating his thoughts for the rest of the day. Maybe Rafael didn’t think he had time to waste thinking of a girl- but she wasn’t asking, no. She happily stole his newspaper, stole the Sudoku, and somehow… she had managed to steal his heart.

* * *

That Friday, he had scoured the Lecture Hall. Arrived early, in fact, so he could have a prime spot in the middle of the seats and a clear view of the door. Of course, as he had predicted, she arrived; floating in alone and wearing a lovely chiffon sundress that had roses printed all over the skirt. Her eyes hadn’t fallen on him, though he wondered why she’d notice him in a room full of handsome young up-and-coming lawyers: certainly there were more attractive men learning law that would be able to woo her. 

After the first five speeches were given, the room was released for a fifteen minute break. “For discussion or an intermission,” the professor loved to tease. As he had prayed for the entire couple hours, Rafael’s mysterious stranger sauntered out of the room, leaving behind her jacket and bags in the seat she had occupied. **Time to move….  
**

~

Ten minutes later, she was back, and she yawned while patting at her lips and meandering back to her spot. Rafael had never wanted to be a hand before, but fingertips had never looked as enticing as they did when pressed to her pout. His oddly placed jealousy was further enforced when she froze and stumbled upon noticing an oddity lying atop her notepad- this time, she delicately curled her palm to her face and furrowed brows.

The other hand, the one that had been holding candy of some sorts that he could only assume she had gotten from a vending machine, fell to the table. Slowly, she ran her thumbs over the embossed words on the book that had been left for her: “ _Sudokus; Only The Best.”_

He had been too chicken to sign it. Of course, his roommate had suggested he leave a sweet note in the cover, but that boy could convince a nun to drop her dress if he wanted to. No, Rafael wasn’t as suave or forward ( _not yet, at least_ ); despite her previous taunts regarding his pretentiousness when it came to words. 

However, it took her no searching. Absolutely not, she didn’t scan the Hall or waste time even searching inside the cover for a clue. Oh no, immediately, she twist at the waist and managed to lock eyes with _him_. Had she known where he sat the whole time? Had she been playing the silent voyeur just as he was, paying attention to him when he didn’t even realize it…?

Meekly, he wiggled fingers at her from a hand held under his chin, much like she had done when dismissing herself from her burglary at the coffee shop he now loved. Even behind the safety of her hand, he could see the corners of her lips swiftly shoot upwards- smiling. 

~

After the professor dismissed the volunteer class, he had watched her leave the Lecture Hall in a hurry. Rafael couldn’t deny the pang of emptiness that bit at his chest; maybe his roommate was right. Did she think he was mocking her? Sincerely, he had searched through at least three news stands before finding the Sudoku book he’d deemed appropriate, _good enough_  for the sweet mystery woman who thought she had to steal Thursday snippets of the paper in order to find _the best_  mathematical conundrums. 

What really made one Sudoku better than another? He had no idea, and had wasted at least an hour thumbing through pages of little squares and asking kindly looking older ladies their preferences before deciding upon _that_ book. In fact, he considered while trudging his way through the aisle, it was quite silly. Silly of him to have spent so much time to look for something so little, to have not had the brains or bravado to write something sultry on the first page, to have not had stopped her the moment he realized how lovely she was-

His internal rant of self-deprecation was interrupted when he made it to the hallway, and the familiar scent of lavender overwhelmed him the moment he felt a hand grip onto his shoulder. Without even considering the circumstances, he froze in his steps, and she actually had to make the first move: a slight spin on her heel so she went from standing behind him to appearing conveniently in front of his face.

When did the church bells start ringing? When did everyone else fade into oblivion? When did the clamoring of chatterbox students dissolve into the background? When did that cold chill find its way down his spin, and when the Hell did her smile force a similar one across his own face?

“My name’s ( _Your Name)_.” She advised brightly, and he couldn’t decide whether to revere her for maintaining the courage he couldn’t muster, or to repeat the syllables out loud just so he could feel them on his own tongue. It must taste like honey, he thought in the recesses of his mind; honey and only the sweetest gifts from Karma. He was unworthy.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” Unsure what else to do, he took her hand in his, and raised the cluster so he could plant a shameless kiss atop her knuckles. A blush rose to her cheeks, and he thought of roses, the pink ones his mother liked to put around the house he had left so long ago. She was a hidden garden, a work of art, and all he wanted to do was explore every facet of her just a little further. “Would you like-” he coughed, and cringed, what was it about her that made speaking so difficult? “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Unblushingly, she gave their bundle of hands a tug, and went to writing seven digits and the name she had announced on his palm. “I’d love that, Rafael,” she glanced up at him coyly through her lashes, and he was convinced right then and there that there would never be anyone who could compare. Not to her, or her giggles, or her persistence.

Rafael had never been more thankful for an interruption before. 

Thank goodness she had asked him to Excuse her.  
Thank goodness he had refused to.


	2. Prologue; Before Home, Again.

Fingers flashed over your eyelids, and you were drug backwards by stubborn hands until your spine was flush with _someone’s_ chest. “Guess who-” the phrase was sung instead of spoken, as if that would sincerely help mask the voice it belonged to. Of course it didn’t. Actually, it was quite the opposite- between his song and the manly scent of his cologne, his identity was given away.

But, that would be too easy; so instead you thoughtfully tapped the toes of your heels against the cement steps and placed a fingertip to your chin. “Oh, is it that cute detective with the anger issues?” The fingers on your face tightened, and you made no efforts to hide the smile that pulled on your lips. “Or the tall one who follows that ol’ ADA around like a lost pup?”

Rafael released you at the final taunt, and teasingly gave a shove between your shoulder blades. Not hard enough to send you tumbling down the steps, of course, but hard enough to convince you to take a moment and regain your balance. Just in case, though, he reached for the ends of your scarf and tugged it taught in hopes it would keep you on stable ground. “You’re lucky I’m so sure of myself, or else I’d think you’re growing bored of me.”

Lucky, maybe, but not for his arrogance. In hopes of appealing to your husband, you threw your arms over his shoulders, and used the leverage to bring yourself back up so you two could share a step. A kiss, in hopes to soften the frown that was threatening his face, and he rolled his eyes once you leaned away- so he knew you could see it. “Oh hush, you know I like you more than them,” your eyebrows wriggled as he scoffed, and you pulled him closer with a careful grip on his tie. The pads of your thumbs ran along the smooth material and he teased you by squiggling his own brows in a similar fashion.

“You know, maybe I don’t know that,” shamelessly, Rafael slithered to close the modest gap between you two, and curled an arm around your waist. “I do believe I’ll require some evidence to support your case…”

You giggled, and his heart grew ten sizes. Court had been Hell that day, he had been texting you every break reminding you exactly how much he hated the defense attorney he was up against- you felt nearly involved at this point. Yet now, it was too easy to smile, now that you were there to torture him. He’d rather be subject to your taunts than busy with a jury any day, every day. “You want those now,” you asked in a sultry whisper while grabbing his arm so you could get a glance at his watch, “or should we schedule time for a meeting?”

A hot blush rose to his face, and Rafael eagerly twist so he could lead you away with a firm grip on your hand. “I think we should discuss this in a more private setting, like our chambers,” once you were at his side, he bowed to press his face to yours, so he could funnel words into your ear with his cheek flush to your own- “and I believe less formal attire is appropriate.”

You growled in response, while tangling your fingers through his, and rocked up to nip at the soft lobe of his ear. Despite hoping to not look like a high school boy while strolling through the streets of New York, his eyelids fluttered and his steps faltered just a moment when his knees went weak. In retribution, he prodded at your sensitive side, causing you to yelp at the surprise tickle.

It appeared as if you’ll have to wait the last few blocks before proving exactly how much you liked him more than the detectives… or anyone, actually, by a long shot. And you’d be glad to show him alllll about it.

* * *

“Why do you like those so much?”

You held a finger up at him, efficiently silencing his interrogating while holding a piece of toast between your lips. Thoughtfully, you went to jotting down your guess, and dropped your breakfast back to its plate. “Like what?” Still, you were focused on the newspaper, and Rafael actually had the audacity to huff at you.

“Those,” he threw a balled up napkin your way, and it landed in the middle of the Sudoku you had been penning away at. “They’re just numbers, and it’s just a pattern- but you act like it’s so fascinating.” To prove his own disinterest, he jut his bottom lip out in a pout, so that sad puppy-dog face would be your greeting when you finally tore yourself away from the puzzle. “I feel like a neglected house wife, talk to meeee.”

Your eyes rolled, and you obediently sat the newspaper atop the counter. “I think they’re fun,” you admitted with an aloof shrug. After a sip of coffee, you threw the kamikazee napkin back his way- he dramatically dipped so it wouldn’t muse his hair. “And you’re just mad you can’t figure them out, and I’m the best at them. You’re not the smartest at everything after all, Rafael-” you wagged a finger his direction and he grunted in opposition.

His inability to figure his way through nine numbers did not feel like a blight on his intelligence. Despite your trying desperately to keep your eyes on his, lest you have to surrender to the staring contest he had started, he noted the blank look in your eye and smirked snidely. “You’re still thinking about that Sudoku, aren’t you?”

Well, since you apparently weren’t hiding it very well, you gave up, and snatched the newspaper back in front of your plate so you could jot down your new discovery. “At least you’re my muse,” you tried coyly, gazing up at him through your lashes while childishly twisting side to side in your chair. “Lookin’ at you makes me think easier… could be your good looks, or that awful tie.”

Rafael laughed, and stood up so he could join you on the other side of the table. Happily, he lay his hands atop your shoulders from behind, and you coddled your cheek against his knuckles. When he touched you, nothing else mattered; not the puzzles in the paper, not the clashing colors in his paisley neck accessory, and definitely not the fact that you were undoubtedly running late for your morning commute. Oh, and when he bent over you and his hot breath found your ear, you physically slumped into your seat so you could lean your head back and find his shoulder.

“Mi amor,” you loved when he spoke Spanish, and your audible sigh brought a pleased smile across his lips. You weren’t paying much attention to the Sudoku any longer; that is, until he reached around you so he could run his fingertip along a specific square. “You used nine twice in that row.”

What? You bolted forward, nearly sending yourself tumbling out of your seat, and he roared with laughter while you gruffly tossed the newspaper across the table.

“You distracted me,” you accused bluntly, before finally eating the rest of your breakfast. Rafael rolled his eyes while straightening his tie, and pressed a succinct kiss to your cheek before you continued on; “So, that doesn’t count.”

* * *

“Excuuuuuse me-”

It was a loud bar. Very loud, actually, but your voice still carried over the crowd. Perhaps he was biased, Rafael considered while making his way back to the table with drinks in his hand. Fortunately, he was just in time to see a stranger had stolen his seat.

“I said get lost, Creep,” You pointed the little cherry from your old drink towards this stranger’s nose, a young lawyer-wannabe who was easily five years younger than yourself. “Just because a lady’s sittin’ alone doesn’t mean she wants your ass warming the next bar stool-”

“Oh, come on, Baby…” The boy leaned towards you, and slithered a fingertip up your bare arm. Rafael’s steps quickened, and he shoved past the other patrons separating himself from the ordeal. Your eyebrow perked, and you held the soft part of your cherry in your teeth while your upper lip slipped into a snarl. Who the Hell did this kid think he was? “Let me get you a drink, we can have a chat…”

No. You didn’t want a roofie-laden-drink from this loser and you certainly didn’t want to talk to him about whatever he intended to discuss. “I saiiiiiid;” you spoke around the red fruit, before shamelessly taking a chomp and plucking it off the stem. “Get,” you chewed your snack, “Lost,” you swallowed and rocked closer, so he could read your mouth clearly, “Creeeeeeeee-puh.” Your lips popped at the final syllable and his arrogant smirk made you see red.

Just before you could shove the spoiled brat off the stool- that stupid, cheap suit belonged on the bar floor anyway; Rafael finally sidled up behind you. “Mi amor,” he began simply, while sitting your drink in front of you and running his now-free hand up the back of your dress. The imposer’s eyes went wide, and he nearly fell over his own shoes while sacrificing the seat he had been trying to commandeer. “You look familiar,” Rafael began with a sly smirk, and he pressed his lips to your bare shoulder while thoughtfully staring at his paleing face. “Aren’t you a summer associate?”

The poor boy only nodded, and motioned grandly towards the empty stool; “Yes, Mr. Barba,” he advised with a nervous laugh. “I’m uh… I didn’t mean to-”

“Kick rocks,” you mumbled under your breath, as Rafael very proudly took back his spot at your side. Thoughtfully, he grabbed for your hand, and ran his thumbs over the diamonds in your wedding ring. The younger boy trotted away, likely to go try his luck elsewhere, and you groaned before leaning your temple against Rafael’s shoulder. “Never leave me alone again, at least not at a bar with all these young pups around.”

Your husband chuckled, and took a stiff drink of his bourbon before shrugging his shoulders. “I dunno, you’re cute when you’re annoyed,” he poked a finger into your cheek, and you taunted him by snapping your teeth as if you’d take a bite out of the offending hand. “I almost thought I’d have to hide a body; instead you just murder the poor kid’s ego.” He gazed over at the recuperated stranger working to earn the acquaintance of a table filled with equally-young assistants. “He’s never gonna go after a real woman again.”

Instead of taking the flattery, you rolled your eyes, and began to chew a bit on your cherry stem. A couple moments of silence later, and you excitedly rapped your fingertips against Rafael’s sleeve. When he finally gave you the attention you were going for, you curled your arms around his bicep closest to you and lolled your tongue out, showcasing your grand accomplishment: the stem tied up into a tidy little knot.

Rafael nearly choked on his bourbon, and his green eyes went wide upon review of your new trick. “ _Dios mío_ ,” he mumbled mostly to himself before shifting so he could retrieve his wallet from his pocket. “On that note, I think we should get the Hell out of here…”

* * *

You trotted out of the little restaurant, and waved final adieus to your fellow coworkers.

“You sure you don’t want someone to walk home with ya?” An old friend from accounting asked, but you were already waving a hand in the air to hail a cab. “It’s pretty late, Honey, and your husband will kill me if you don’t get home alright.”

Teasingly, you wriggled your eyebrows and shook your head in a subtle refusal. “You let me worry about Rafael,” you rocked your hips side to side as the nearest cab pulled up to the curb in front of you. Funny, it was never this easy to get a Taxi in New York on a Friday night… looks like it’s your lucky evening. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine- you be careful.” You pointed towards her, and she responded by doing the same right back at you, just before you slid into the confines of the waiting car.

Surprisingly, the Taxi began to pull away, and go South down the street, without your instructions. Unfortunately for the driver’s apparent diligence, you were hoping to go North. “Hey, friend,” you giggled, the bubbles from the champagne you had drank apparently still at the forefront of your mind, “I need to go the other way-”

The driver didn’t respond. Not even a chuckle or any sort of acknowledgement that you had spoken to him. A couple lights later, you heard the locks click… maybe it was one of those automatic systems. “Sir,” you tried the route of being polite, and pulled yourself up towards the front seat by your fingertips curling over his head rest. “Sir- you’re going the wrong way.”

He stopped at a red light, and slid the car into park. Odd, considering you were still in the middle of the intersection. “Oh, no, you pretty little thing-” He twist in his seat, and came face to face with you. Those eyes, they weren’t friendly- and though you were almost always so bold, a sliver of fear rendered you practically paralyzed. What was it about him that terrified you; why now did your courage fail? “We’re going exactly where we need to.”

His arm cocked up, you thought you saw the glimmer of the crimson stop light reflect on something in his hand. Before you could fathom the metal pipe; darkness, ringing, and suddenly the world disappeared and left you alone for unconsciousness to force you tumbling to the floorboards.

Apparently you would not be going back to your Rafael.  
Not tonight, and not for the next two years.

All you wanted to do was go home, again.


	3. Home, Again: Reunited

_“To have, and to hold-”_

_Rafael smiled as the end of the pastor’s speech approached. Of course, the ceremony was lovely; spring air that wafted the floral scents from the gardens up through the trees and ruffled the eyelash lace on your dress, the family and dear friends gathered before you to witness the union of two like souls, how his heart beat so roughly against the inside of his ribs that he was convinced you may be able to see his boutonniere move in tune. He hoped it didn’t distract you. All he could ever hope was that nothing could distract you- from this moment, from these promises he was more than willing to make. The ceremony was lovely, but he wanted to hold you more than he wanted to talk any longer_

_You were fine, though. Nothing could convince you to pull your gaze from his green eyes. Not his trembling hands as he held onto yours, not the corners of his lips wriggling as he struggled to maintain his stoic composure, not the whistling of the birds or the soft hum of the harp. You had waited years to make this sincere; legal and honest. All you had ever wanted ever since you met your Darling Rafi was to become his wife- funny how you had never wanted something so desperately before._

_“Until death do you part?”_

_He gripped your hands so tightly, you thought you couldn’t feel your fingers; “I do.”_

_You wished you could cup his face in your palms and disappear away to your honeymoon, this was taking far too long; “I do.”_

—

“You know, Barba-” After a year of ardent searching, Olivia felt as if it were her responsibility to finally bring up the suggestion he couldn’t imagine facing. “It’s not illegal for someone to choose to disappear…” The possibility was becoming more and more tangible- well, that or the other consideration that she wouldn’t dare speak aloud. Most kidnappings turn to homicides long before the year anniversary of a disappearance.

He glared at her over his glass of scotch. He knew that, of course he knew that- but he couldn’t fathom you just… leaving. It was as if you had never existed, as if you had been the most lovely and recurrent dream that he had ever encountered. You were real, though. Rafael knew you were real. He could remember you so vividly, even after three drinks and a year apart. The sunny, rosey scent of the perfume you loved that came from the little cerulean bottle; he had been spraying it around the condo for the last few months, even had to go buy more after it ran out. The crisp way your laughter bounced off the walls and radiated like light fragments reflecting from a chandelier. Your silky hair he had ran his fingers through time, after time, after time.

“I know,” he conceded gently. Rafael couldn’t bring himself to remind her of all the memories he held- she didn’t feel them like he did. Feel them, taste them, and see them in his dreams and nightmares. She didn’t know how he rolled in bed sleepless, clutching pillows and praying he could pretend it was your soft skin instead of manufactured clouds of fluff and cotton. She couldn’t have known how it felt to sit at his dining room table every morning and try to imagine his angel sitting across, ignoring him while diligently penning away at your Sudokus. He was haunted by you, by his beautiful blushing bride, the ghost of the world he had built for you two. Every case, every fight for justice, it was all for you. It had always been, but now it had purpose. In hopes he’d stumble upon a clue, or at least that you’d see his name in the papers or on the television. Rafael had never liked the press, but now he dressed to the nines and went anywhere he knew there’d be cameras.

There’s no way anyone with access to a television or newspapers hadn’t seen his face. Not with how ardently he’s been pursuing reasons to be there, hoping his sweet specter would remember how his lips felt against yours. The bait to reel you back… He hoped you were proud of him.

His hesitancy spoke louder than the words he couldn’t say would have been able to. “I’m not saying to give up,” Olivia knew he never would. “I’m just suggesting we be a bit more realistic at this point. No body, no contact, no-”

“I know, Olivia.” His voice cracked in an uncharacteristic sign of weakness, accompanied by the rough slam of his empty glass atop his desk. Detective Benson gathered her things, deciding maybe he was finding more comfort in his scotch than her logic. Unfortunately, she was right.

—

_Composure._  
_Noun.  
_ _‘the state or feeling of being calm and in control of oneself.’_

Rafael Barba was the king of composure. It’s what he did, what he had to do if he wanted to get through in his career. _Synonyms: self-control, self-possession, self-command._ There were murderers who demanded he maintain a high level of composure in order to get anything from them on the stand; con men who would easily walk if he hadn’t kept control. _Synonyms: calm, equanimity, equilibrium, serenity, tranquility._ He had practiced the intricacies even further in the last two years, stifling his broken heart and feelings deep in his psyche so nobody could watch on as he cracked.

Externally- he was the smooth, suave ADA loved by the paparazzi and the people; able to lock up boogeymen and put together a damn flattering outfit without the help of feminine insight.

Internally - his life was a wasteland, one he supplemented with the horrors of others in order to distract from the world his mind was trapped in. The rosy scent of the ever approaching apocalypse, the deafening crash of his chandelier.

_Composure.  
_ _Example: “Rafael Barba has lost all facets of composure.”_

When the team finally busted Johnny D, he had been easily forewarned- they had about four women of differing ages that had been rescued from his hell hole of a house upon his arrest. Everyone was quite busy with Ariel, understandably, her mother had been the one to lead them to the victory they were celebrating. Thank God for determined people, thank God for her stubborn and insistent mother. Rafael saw a bit of himself in her.

Hushed voices and sincere calming tactics were laid thick as he surveyed the squad room: Olivia had a girl who couldn’t be older than sixteen by the hand, Rollins was nodding along to a bawling young woman who he thought he had seen in the ‘missing’ ads he scanned daily, Tutola was working to reunite Ariel with her eager mother.

However, it was the fourth, who sat lovingly at the side of the very young girl speaking with Rollins. It was You. You, sunken face covered in dirt and bruises from God-Knows-What (he worried what you had gone through when receiving them). You, hair tangled and falling hopelessly into your eyes, he couldn’t breathe when he watched you brush your bangs away (he wondered when you had decided to dye it so much darker).

You moved. You were real. You were there.

You were wearing a horrible excuse of an immodest black slip despite the cold New York night air (he worried you’d catch a cold). You’d have never worn something like that back when he fell asleep with you (he wondered where you got something like that). You, with hands curled around the younger girl’s thigh reassuringly, nodding along as Rollins attempted to get more information of the horrors they had endured (he wished he had been there to comfort you as you did her).

Oh precious angel, the guardian of the weak and innocent, the darling cherub escorting the children to freedom. What of you, with the constellations of black and blue donning your thin legs and even thinner arms? What of you, voice deep and desperate, drinking up water as if you hadn’t had a drink in days? What was the last meal you ate, the last comfort you had felt? Who kept you from freezing at night; you were always so sensitive to cold? When was the last time you actually slept, with those bags under your eyes it was hard to tell? What of his once blushing bride, now pale and sullied with sickness and fragility?

Was he seeing things? A victim of his weary mind playing tricks? Oh dear God, maybe he’s finally gone insane. He could barely think or catch himself when he felt his legs give in and the floor shift- Rafael had to steady himself against the door frame.

_Composure, noun.  
_ _Antonyms: agitation, discomposure, perturbation._

He had to turn away from the scene and dry heave into a nearby waste basket; he thought he’d be sick. You were barely recognizable, Olivia hadn’t even seemed to be able to connect your current face to the ones she had studied with Rafael over the years. He knew it was you, though. He’d never, ever be able to not-recognize you. Never.

“Barba!” Amaro interrupted the moment of his falling apart, just in time to see his colleague on his knees. “Oh God, counsellor, are you alright?” He crouched at his side, and pat calmly on his back. “Are you ill? There’s a flu going around, I know Zara was sick the other day-”

“I’m fine.” Rafael shrugged Amaro roughly off of him, he didn’t want sympathy or to hear about how his child had been puking everywhere. “What do you want?”

Well, that was rude. “Uh, the girls,” Amaro kinda figured the reason for him approaching would be rather obvious. “They’re willing to testify. All of 'em.” He paused for consideration, “Well almost all of 'em, one’s nervous, says Johnny D can make anyone disappear…”

If only he had known the irony in his statement. Since he couldn’t have, Rafael’s nervous laughter was likely perceived as odd and cold. “I want to talk to them,” He finally managed after stifling his chuckling. “The ones Rollins are with, who are they?”

“The little one’s the one who’s scared,” Amaro clarified, deciding not to bring up the odd reaction to his previous statement. This case had everyone feeling off, “Her name’s Natalia, she’s really very sweet. And she has her friend there who’s been trying to convince her-”

“What’s the friend’s name?” Confirmation. Rafael needed confirmation, a solution to the conundrum, the solid evidence of her existence mere feet away from where he stood.

“Oh, uh-” the detective opened the file he held, and smiled broadly at his usefulness when he tapped at the name, “It’s Y/N. She says she’s been with Johnny for a couple years no-”

“Get her in the conference room for questioning,” Rafael interrupted and swiftly went away to visit the restroom. He didn’t want to give Amaro the chance to demand an explanation. “I’ll meet her there in five.” He needed to check his appearance, to splash water on his face- oh how he suddenly wished he hadn’t stopped carrying a flask in his suitcase…

_Composure. Noun._

—

You refused to go anywhere alone, especially if there was going to be a man waiting for you. There’s no way the detective really thought you’d agree to this. “You’re joking,” you suggested darkly, and you felt Natalia’s fingers tighten dramatically around your arm. If you weren’t going to agree, there was certainly no way she would. You were responsible for her; you had to make sure every decision made was the right one. No guessing.

“The ADA’s a great man, honorable to boot,” Amaro assured you softly. He had tried to guide you to the door with a hand between your shoulder blades, but you sincerely hated being touched lately, and had torn yourself away violently enough to frighten him. After all the beatings, the rapes, the lessons that they 'taught’ you- a man’s hands on your skin burnt worse than if it were an iron. It was Hell to be under a touch, however benevolent the intentions -they were never benevolent anymore-. Every fingerprint bore into you, leaving behind invisible brands that you’ve learned you couldn’t wash off no matter how many showers you took. Not that you were allowed very many over the last few years. “I promise you, he’s the kindest man I’ve ever known…”

Little Natalia coiled herself to your side. You and she had become nearly inseparable during your time at the lair. You’d comb her hair after her johns left her bruised and sore, she’d lay in your lap and help keep you warm when the cold air become too much to bear. Johnny D liked it, in his own sick and perverted way, and oddly enough he’d let you two stay together often. Maybe it was because she’d cry less if you were around, or perhaps because you wouldn’t risk angering him as eagerly when you knew he’d use her. After two years, his knuckles on your cheekbones didn’t matter. His hands crushing the blood vessels in your hips while violating you became commonplace. You were stronger than precious Natalia, and you barely blinked at the devastation he had wreaked on your now frail frame.

You had been a woman once. A strong woman, a smart woman- you graduated college and found a dashing husband who loved you dearly, oh you wondered what had ever become of that man with his gentle hands and piercing green eyes. You dreamt of him often, since it was the most you could do- but you hadn’t said his name aloud in the past two years. Lest Johnny hear you, or anyone else really. They loved to make you girls whimper and afraid, you couldn’t let them get near the part of your heart that had shattered the night you were stolen away. Why did you get in that Taxi? Why weren’t you smart enough to sense what was wrong?

You didn’t feel much like a woman anymore. You were a thing, a 'pretty little thing’ as Johnny D lovingly referred to you. A 'sweet little thing’ as the johns would recite. A 'damned thing’ when you disobeyed. A thing worth a couple hundred for a few hours of you lying stoned on a mattress while they did what they wanted; a thing who earned her food and clothes back via sexual favors and hopeless begging; a thing who comingled with the other things in a dark room while waiting for the knowing Hell to come. It always came.

In fact, the only time the door opening didn’t mean damnation, was when the detectives had raided.

Perhaps meeting along with this illusive ADA wasn’t ideal, but you were brave. Nobody could do anything to you here, or at least, nothing worse than what you’ve already been through. “Fine, but we stay together,” the insisting was emphasized by you curling arms around her. You weren’t used to being able to bargain or negotiate, but the kind young detective nodded vibrantly at the suggestion. Perhaps this one you could trust.

“Yes, of course.” He looked excited, apparently the little success meant something to him. “You two want coffee or anything? Juice, breakfa-”

“Juice?!” Natalia finally spoked, and the spark in her eye convinced Amaro to eagerly oblige.

“Yea honey, I’ll get you both some.” Amaro recalled how you recoiled when he had tried to lead you earlier, so instead he motioned to the conference room without even thinking of touching either of you. “Just in there, please. He’ll be there in a minute, he’s a great guy, you two can really tell him anything.”

—

Rafael stood on the opposite side of the door for what could have only been a moment, but it sincerely felt like hours. He had overheard some stories from Ariel and the other girl- the atrocities they suffered were incomparable. His mind couldn’t even picture some of the things they described, it was so awful and sick, he thought he had seen everything and he was wrong. He had gone through his own personal Hell these last two years; longing, wondering, loss. None of his sleepless nights could have compared to what they went through, what you likely went through as well.

Sharply, he inhaled, and closed his eyes as he went to twist at the knob.  
_Composure._ He needed it to be a _verb_.

The door opening had frightened Natalia, who was enjoying a drink other than water and booze for the first time in a few months. She had instinctively turned to hide in your shoulder, and you buried your face in her hair while whispering assurances. “The nice detective said he’s a nice man Honey, we need to be strong.” He heard your words even though you were speaking to your companion, and it sparked tears in his eyes. Bless you, you hadn’t changed, at least your heart hadn’t.

How do you introduce yourself after two years? “Uhm,” Rafael always knew what to say, could always conjure a defense- but not right now. He actually was at a loss of words. The common introduction felt cheap, 'oh hello I’m the ADA working this case and your husband, how have you been the last few years?’ What was he supposed to say? They didn’t teach this at law school.

It wasn’t until you boldly raised your chin, ready to face the man your rescuers had spoken so highly of, ready to be the bravado your precious Natalia couldn’t. ADA, what does that even mean, entail? You hadn’t seen a television or read the news for years now, it was all so foreign and so much had changed while you were passed between dark rooms. You hated feeling so stupid, out of the loop. You needed to see his face, to hopefully find the kindness you had been promised.

This, though, was not what you were expecting.

Your arms fell helplessly from your sweet friend’s shoulders, and your jaw dropped before you realized it. It couldn’t be, this was a trick. The name you had refused to speak out loud, the eyes you saw behind your own lids at night. You both were frozen in time, in space; two sad caricatures of who you had been when you stood before the other at the altar all those years ago.

You studied him, as if drinking in every inch of his appearance was more valuable than the drinks at the table in front of you. It was, it so was, and it was so incredibly necessary. More necessary than any other sustenance; was your heart beating? You hadn’t felt it do that for two years. “When did you start wearing pink?” It was a silly question, and you felt Natalia curiously twist in your embrace to see what you were talking about. A handsome man wearing pink suspenders and a matching tie, a man who appeared to be more frightened than even she was. His face was pale, was this really the ADA they’d been promised?

Rafael nervously laughed, and accidentally dropped the suitcase at his feet in the midst of his surprise joy. The clatter went unnoticed. That was a better way to begin than any of the other recitations he had practiced in his head. “It’s your favorite color,” he reminded gently, and you couldn’t keep back the tears you had learned to hide so well. Tears were weakness, weakness meant you could be taken advantage of- but not now. Now they meant joy, they meant love, they were salty symbols of everything you had lost and came to terms with never having again.

You went to rise, but he crossed the space before you could, and he hovered a hand just over your visible shoulder. Rafael’s worked with victims daily; he knew how much fear a touch could incite. Your sweet, darling husband- after all the nights you two had shared so long ago mapping the other out until sleep found you, he hesitated to touch you! How precious of a gift, how thoughtful and stunning he was, how much you missed him.

Though he remained patient and strong, despite what you hoped was a desire, you unblushingly reached for his wrist. The first touch from a man that didn’t make you cringe, the first one you had actually asked for in two years. Nearly tumbling out of your chair in your rush, you pulled his hand against your skin to close the gap. He didn’t move, but you could hear him exhale. "I forgot,” you explained through your voice hitching in your throat. Slithering under his palm, you forced his hand up from your shoulder to your cheek. “I forgot I had a favorite anything.”

“Y/N, who is that?” Natalia watched in bewilderment and horror as you coddled into his touch. How could you stomach it, the thought of a man coming near her made her want to wail- yet here you were practically begging for this stranger? “What are you doing?”

Rafael cautiously used his free hand to move your hair, out of your face and over your shoulder. Your warm sensation- he had almost forgotten how beautifully soft you were. He wouldn’t dare take his other off your face, in case you’d change your mind. “Y/N, I’ve looked for you, I never gave up-”

“Rafi,” his name on your tongue, finally. The magic word that set your skin ablaze, in a good way for once. Better than any food or candy you had ever tasted, more important than any begging or praise you had spoken in the time before this moment. “Rafael, I can’t put into words-”

“Don’t,” He insisted, dropping to crouching so he could place the most innocent kiss you had received throughout your ordeal onto the cheek not in his hand. “You don’t have to say anything, I-” Rafael whimpered, and his crying took you by surprise. With your thumb, you went to wiping away each tear. Oh, if only you had known all the ones that had been shed in your absence. “I’m just so happy you’re here.”

Poor Natalia tugged on your free arm. “Please what’s happening?” She begged, pulling you just far enough away from your trance. His eyes were hypnotizing; you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You never wanted to again.

“Baby, I married this man,” You finally confessed the one secret she didn’t know, the one part of your life you hadn’t turned into a fairy tale to lull her to sleep. It was too risky to ever say, the chance it would come back to bite you frightened you. “He’s the most darling man I’ve ever known-”

He pressed his lips to your cheeks again, again, again, and again. The pale skin felt warm when he kissed it, you wondered if color would come to them once more, hopefully sometime soon. “You- you were married?” Natalia stammered, softening slightly. How wonderful it must be, she considered, to not fear someone touching at you the way he did.

“Are.” Rafael corrected insistently, bluntly, as if it made all the difference. “We, we are married. Right?” He didn’t want to put that decision on you, not now when you were so fragile, but he needed to know. If you couldn’t accept him, he’d wait. Easily, he just had to know if that’s what you wanted from him. He’s waited two years, attended every boring gala, spoke to all the horrible paparazzi in hopes to catch your attention; he could wait in the shadows to feel your love again. He could hold his hands in his lap if only he knew you wouldn’t refuse him forever. He would gladly walk steps behind until you were comfortable with him at your side, he could prepare his home for your arrival even if it took you another two or a hundred years to join him. Waiting for you would be a blessing.

You giggled. Laughter. You didn’t think you could do that anymore, but here you were. Oh, the sweet light off his repaired chandelier, the saccharine gifted melody brightening his dark mind. Life was tangible again; recovery was a possibility- if only you two could leave this all behind and abscond off together. Solitude would be Nirvana if it meant you could find your solace with your darling love, the man you’ve begged for, the hero you just knew would have to come save you eventually. “Please,” you begged through your tears, and Rafael desperately gathered you against his chest as you wept. Your tears stained his nice shirt, darkened the pink suspenders you had mentioned earlier. Funny, you were starting to remember how much you really did love pink. “Please, Rafael.”

“My love, it’s over;” He kissed your hair and ran his hand up and down your spine. You wished he would touch you all over, magic-erase every other fingerprint that had ever skimmed your skin, clean every fault any other man had laid upon you. “My love- you’re home.”

You knew he could, oh your precious Rafael Barba, your willing savior.

And finally, in his embrace: you were home.


	4. Barba Request / "Hey Hey, Calm Down. They Can't Get You Anymore."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per the ask [HERE](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153306445212/2-with-barba-please), from the prompt list [HERE](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153258366362/drabble-challenge)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tappin’ into the **[Home, Again](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/152955368297/home-again) ** situation.  
>  _Warnings: mention of sexual assault, bad dreams, PTSD stuff._

It was dark, again. It got dark sooner now.  
You had been trying so hard to stay in the light.  
To live in his green eyes, to find solace instead of sleep in his embrace.

Sleep was dangerous, you’d rather listen to your Rafael slumber. His sighs, his snores, how his breath caught when he mumbled. Feel him twitch when he fell unconscious, his chest rise and fall against the small of your back, his hands lay like gentlemen atop your night clothes. Your precious husband, how wonderful he was, accepting you into his bed after all the time and distress your horror story had made him face.

Dreams meant memories, and memories meant fear.  
Yet the drowsy demon can only be avoided for so long.

And so it goes, relentlessly: again, and again.

~

_Cold; emotionally and physically. The icicles dangling from the awnings outside shone rainbow glimmers of light along the wall. One of the younger girls held her hand up in a particularly bold stripe of red orange and yellow- she fluttered her fingers and found a moment of joy in watching her nails and knuckles sparkle in the warm illumination. Nobody said a word, not wanting to ruin her happiness. It was too rare around here._

_The door opened, and naturally, all of you that had been sat in the room froze quicker than the water that slid from the roof to the drain pipes. The girl’s hand came down, and she literally sat on her previously sunset-painted knuckles. It hadn’t been ignored; Johnny D chuckled from deep in his chest and wobbled his way towards her._

_He was drunk, you could smell the tequila. “You volunteerin’?” The tone jumped as if it was an inquiry, but you all knew it wasn’t. There were no questions- just orders. “Up, girl.” He spoke as if she were a pup, and pat at his hip to further the condescension. “Up.”_

_The girl whined, without opening her mouth, and his boot stomped alongside her leg- the aglet struck her thigh and she jumped. She had told you all earlier that she was fourteen- a baby. You tutored children her age when you were back in college. It was one thing to watch her get handed off to a young buck with a couple hundred in his pocket; you couldn’t stomach the idea of her going with Johnny D for his own devices. Not without at least trying to help._

_You couldn’t help yourself. From across the room, you raised your fist in the air, and rapped your fingertips along the yellowed wallpaper. Johnny twisted, eyebrow up, to see where the noise had come from._

_“My pretty lil’ thing,” he laughed- the only genuine laughter you girls had heard in months was his own. It made your blood run cold, but your distraction was successful. For tonight. “I like you more, anyways.”_

_You hadn’t smiled for at least a year now; it was hard to tell how long you’ve been with him. No newspapers, no televisions, no clocks or calendars- all of you were victims of life and forgotten by time. Though you couldn’t bless him with a grin, you nodded, to show you accepted the perverted adulation._

_It took a second, it always felt like longer, for him to snatch you up from the floor by the wrist you had up in the air. In another sliver of time, an arm was around your waist, and you wailed when it tightened- too tight, too close…_

~

“ _YOUR NAME_ ,” Rafael was shaking you, one arm still around your torso and the other rattling your shoulder. He sat up the best he could with you fighting against him. If only he could wake you up, he thought. “Baby, please, mi amor-”

All you knew was that someone was screaming, something was holding you down and tugging at you- it pinched your skin and made your ribs sore. You had avoided sleep for so long: once it caught you in its teeth, you were momentarily trapped in its hold. Damn insomnia, damn night terrors. You writhed: punching at Johnny D as he fled from your thoughts, scratching at the seams of your dreams for escape, begging to be released from the entrancement caused by your sleep-deprived head.

“ _Let go_ ,” that distant voice shouted, did he go back for the little sunshine girl? Where was it coming from- you couldn’t place it. “ _Please, let me go_!”

It wasn’t until Rafael obediently released you, and you tumbled from the comfort of the blankets and onto the floor, that you finally escaped from your nightmare. You were screaming, the howling had been your own voice- you were hoarse now, your throat hurt. By the time you opened your eyes, your darling husband was already circling the bed to sit at your side. Odysseus returning for his Penelope, back after the grand adventure.

“Mi amor, baby;” He spoke patiently, gently, despite your dramatically wide eyes and the bruises that would sprout on his chest from where your fists had landed against him. Instinctively, you jumped to your feet, and backed away until you ran into the nightstand with the little vintage clock you used to love so much- it rang in response to being jostled and you yelped in surprise at the noise.

Rafael wasn’t sure how to handle this, other than to take his time. Let you take your time, as he had been doing ever since you were rescued. Cautiously, when you hid your face in your own hands and wept, he crossed the gap between you and laid a hand on your arm. Initially, you jerked away, and he stepped back in respect of your wishes.

“ **Hey, hey, calm down** ;” He begged, which pulled you from your sleepy bewilderment. You peeked at him through your fingertips, unsure what to expect: would he be annoyed with you, angry you had woken him? To the contrary, he delicately continued the dance, and another step was made your direction. “ **They can’t hurt you anymore.”** His head wagged side to side, his face was serious; your savior had chased the boogeyman away.

“Rafi,” you whimpered, and repeated yourself just to feel his name on your tongue; “Rafael, oh Rafi-” Knowing he was too nervous to make the move after your rejections, you jumped for him, and he graciously welcomed you. Your first test to prove he was real; you inhaled, deeply, and his scent flooded your mind to replace all the sensations your dream had brought with it.

He put his lips on your shoulder, and ran his hands reassuringly up and down your back. The hint had been received, so he didn’t wrap around you or hold you tight. Space, you needed space- and love. Rafael would give you both, he already has. “Mi amor, you’re safe now, nobody can get you.”

You coiled yourself against him, pressing your face into his neck, and you let him lead you back to the bed. “I’m so sorry, Rafael,” it felt silly, all this over a bad dream. He had tried to explain PTSD to you, but you thought you were stronger than that. Perhaps you were wrong.

“No apologies,” Rafael pulled you alongside him on the bed, and you gladly accepted his hands on you wherever they fell. “You need to sleep, though, everything’s so vivid because you’re so tired,” he tried to reason with you, while combing his fingers through your hair and leaving a rainstorm of kisses on your cheeks. “I know you’re not sleeping, I can see it in your eyes.” He took all hands off of you as you shifted and curled into his lap, letting you get comfortable before attempting an embrace again.

“I’m scared, though-” you couldn’t specify for him, you weren’t even sure you knew what you were scared of. He had a hand on your knee, and you lay your wet cheek against his chest. His heart beat in your ear

“What if I stayed up?” The suggestion was desperate, but he tried to sound cheerful. “I’ll be right beside you,” Rafael combed your hair out of your face, and placed his lips on your forehead. “I’ll protect you, mi amor, you know I will.”

You did know. The thought of your invincible man, staying up and alert while you struggled to count sheep. “No, Rafi, no.” You craned your neck, and kissed along his jaw line. He sighed, and didn’t say a word- your affections were so rare these days even when his were abundant. Each little peck made up for all the days you couldn’t bring yourself to give them away. Every time your lips pressed against him felt like a miracle. “They can’t get me anymore,” you whispered simply, and he nodded vibrantly in response.

“You’re right, you’re so very right;” He lay you down, as if you were the most precious talisman he had ever handled, and you eagerly buried yourself within the numerous pillows and the obnoxiously large comforter. “I love you so much, _Your Name_ , you know that?” Rafael joined you, and coddled alongside you.

Knowing he wouldn’t take the initiative after your previous howling, you reached for his arm, and pulled on him until you could place his palm against your sternum. That was nicer, felt better than being trapped by the waist- his perfect warmth over your heart reminded it to beat. Just how his emerald eyes convinced you to see him as your husband instead of any other man you had come around the two years you were gone. “I do, Rafael, I do.” You leaned your head back, until you could rest against his chest. “And I love you, darling. I love you, and always will.”

And sleep came, for both of you.  
But this time: you could feel the cool breeze and smell the flowers from your wedding day.

Heaven.


	5. Home, Again | “Did You Miss My Gentle Touch / Did I Hurt You Very Much”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per ask [**HERE**](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153430438367/ok-so-i-was-listening-to-this-gillian-welch-song): 
> 
> _Ok so i was listening to this Gillian Welch song and there was this one line that kept getting in my head and idk what to do with it but I thought you would be able to write something beautiful around it (because all your writing is beautiful omfg) - anyway the line is “did you miss my gentle touch? / did I hurt you very much?” could fit with the niñita story or a Barba one shot or something? (also the evil idea just hit me it could be Johnny D in the “home again” story oh nooo)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tappin’ into the **[Home, Again](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/152955368297/home-again) ** situation.  
>  _Warnings: mention of  
>  sexual assault, bad dreams, PTSD stuff._

Testify. Testify. Testify.  
Against Johnny Drake.

The word meant different levels of anxiety depending on who said it to you.

Testify: Olivia urged that it was the only way to help the other girls, who were weaker than you were. More afraid, more easily manipulated- you had to be the backbone now just like you were in the lair. A responsibility. As if every evening you saved a child from his anger wasn’t good deed enough.

Testify: Rafael told you that it would put him away, lock him behind bars like that animal he was. Other inmates would know what he did, to teenage girls, practically children- he’d have his day in court every morning and in every shower. You’d never have to worry about seeing him again, he’d rot in prison, but they needed you to tell your horror story.

Testify: Carisi held your hands as you sat in the stand, listening carefully to every word your man spoke to ignite a story to damn your previous captor. When you faltered, he’d nod, and you’d be encouraged to continue; the horrors were easier to relay to a kind nearly-stranger than your sweet husband.

Testify: In every context, it sounded like Hell.

-

“I need to go to the ladies room,” You whispered to Fin, who had been the detective prescribed to protect you. He was delightful, you really appreciated his company. “I’ll be right back.” At least you managed to sound confident.

Of course, he debated going with you. The little voice of reason in the back of his head told him not to let you go alone- but that whisper must have faded away with the other chatter going on in the court house. It was so hard to focus among the chaos. And so instead, he nodded, and you left your purse with him while wandering away.

There were so many doors, it was dizzying. Large doors leading to god knows where and huge ornate columns likely intended to add some pizzazz to the little legal palace. How old was this building? You’d have to ask Rafael later, you really weren’t all that sure how else to find out such a menial fact, but it sounded like something he’d know.

The little stick figure hung in the upper portion of the next hallway you careened down- perfect. You’re a genius, you could find anything in this maze.

If only you were better at choosing what exactly that ‘anything’ turned out to be.

“My _pretty lil’ thing_!”  


Run. The first thought that sparked your spine was simple: run. But you couldn’t. It was as if the phrase and the ice in your blood rendered you motionless- save for your face, which hesitantly slid his direction.

“Awe Honey, you look good- all fancy.” Johnny D snickered, he’d never actually seen you dolled up and pretty. At least, not beyond what he had you dress in to impress the johns he brought your way. “Your lawyer get you that dress?”  


Well, technically. Rafael was your lawyer- he bought everything you had. You still couldn’t manage a job, your fear of men and every dark corner made it nearly impossible. You had become a kept woman; cooking dinners and folding three piece suits while leaving every light in the house on and locking the door three times until your sweet Prince came home. 

Why was it so dark in here? Why were you considering actually answering? The brute had been a crucial part of your life for two years, even though it was Hell- it was almost familiar and common to listen to him. Even if it made the bile in your throat rise to the back of your tongue.

The guard reprimanded Johnny D for his behavior, and likely wished you would just hurry along. You couldn’t; not when the tears sparked, not when your former pimp snarled at the look on your face. He was loving this, it was as if you were locked up in his room all over again- but this time, he had your head. He knew he was in your thoughts, scaring you. It was perfect for the sadistic asshole.

“Did you miss me, pretty thing?”  


Thing. You weren’t a ‘thing’ anymore, Rafael had gone over that with you; again, again, and again. Your husband had said your name repetitiously since you confided that you were a ‘thing’ for Johnny. And here you were, a ‘thing’ once more- Did he even actually know your real name? You weren’t sure, though it almost made you feel better to know there was a chance he didn’t remember it.

“ **Did you miss my gentle touch**?” Johnny crudely rocked his hips, and the guard again gave an affirmative push on his shoulder, trying to keep him seated.

Your lip curled, and you told him what you were really thinking, which sparked the poor correctional officer to attention through his annoyance. “There’s nothing gentle about you.”

He laughed, the bastard laughed loud enough to wake the dead- you could hear footsteps pounding from down the hall, everything felt so distant. “Awe honey, **Did I hurt you very much**?” His assigned officer made a feeble attempt to tug him away by the arms. Johnny was a massive man, though, it was hard to control him even in handcuffs. “If I recall, you volunteered-”

Legs went weak, spine got limp. Everything spun around you- Dizzy.

“Mi amor!?” His lovely voice came from down the hall; you hadn’t even noticed you had slunk from standing to the ground, back pressed firm against the wall. Johnny D’s lawyer began spouting apologies while trying to lead his indignant client away, but your man was at your side before you could even fathom strength in your legs again.  


“Mrs. Barba, I sincerely apologize-” The lawyer was trying to be polite, you knew that: yet the flood gate he opened was one no dam could fix. Rafael glowered at him, and promptly guided you back to standing. Why did he have to use your married name-  


Johnny D’s jaw dropped, and he watched eagerly as you were assisted to your feet by the ADA. You may have not had access to outside resources during your entrapment- but he never missed the ten o clock news. “MISSUS BARBA!?” He shouted it, letting it ring and resonate through the vaulted ceilings, mocking your tears and trembling as your husband wrapped you in his arms. “You’re married? To the damn ADA!?” Raucous laughter, it was horribly audible as he was escorted away and through the halls. Rafael pressed your face against his suit and covered your outside ear with his hand, hoping to muffle the taunts. “GOOD CHOICE, COUNSELOR!” He was shouting from down the hall, bellowing like the gorilla he was. “Hope she’s as good for you as she was for me-”

Tutola wouldn’t admit to it, but he would never be asked to: it was simply opinion that he had rammed his arm into Johnny’s stomach just in time to silence his crude nature. Thankfully.

“Don’t let him scare you:” It was a genuine attempt to console you, but it wouldn’t work, and your fists landed roughly against his arms and shoulders until he let go of you. Unfortunately, Rafael Barba was growing accustomed to your misplaced anger. He’d take every punch, though. Every scratch, every hit and push. Call him a martyr if you must, but- It wouldn’t scare him away. Nothing was scarier than losing you. “Honey, you’re going to get him thrown away, you’re so strong.” He gently collected your fists- a palm covering each one, he knew better than to restrain you already.  


“Rafael, I can’t do this,” tears fell, your voice cracked, and you thought you’d loose your footing for the third time that day. “I need to breathe, to think, I can’t-”  


Then Rollins came around the bend, Natalia tangling her fingers within hers. She had refused to testify- if she wasn’t your precious friend, you’d have wished she’d be damned for abandoning the responsibility to you. Upon seeing you so upset, the girl tore away from her escort, and lunged to hug you around your waist.

“You’re the strongest person I know, _Your Name_.” Natalia whimpered and whined through tears of her own. Rafael attempted to pull her away, give you space and time to think, but you wouldn’t let him. Instead, just as he had done to protect you, you coddled her to your chest, and crouched so her face could find the soft skin between your shoulder and throat. “You gotta make him go away,” her begging continued, though her words were muffled in your collar bone. “I can’t live knowing he’s on the streets, I can’t stand being his thing…”  


“Shhh, sweetie-” You held her face in your hands, and kissed at her cheeks until her tears wet your lips to the point where you knew you’d need to reapply the crimson paint. “You are an immaculate young woman, Natalia.” Forcing her to catch your stare was the easy part, her fingers wrapped eagerly around your wrists. “You are a beautiful woman, Natalia, and I’m going to make sure you never see his damned face again, you hear me?”  


The sweet girl nodded, and Rollins interrupted your precious moment of confirmation. “Honey, we need to get seated, court’s in session soon.” Both of you nodded to show you understood, and Amanda graciously wrapped an arm around the younger girl to walk her away.

“Rafael-” You watched as she left, but couldn’t help yourself from noticing; “Rafael, where’s her family?”  


He winced, and bit his lip for a moment before responding- he knew you wouldn’t like the answer. “Not here,” he began simply, before gathering your hands in his to ease you to the door for the restroom you had been so desperately searching for. “She’s been staying at a shelter, don’t worry about her- we need to get you ready, mi amor-”

A shelter? You paused, abruptly enough to make him stumble. “You can’t let her stay in a shelter,” The thought of her rotting away in an establishment with other unfortunate souls: it broke your heart. “My love, you can’t make her be so lonely, can’t she stay with us?”

His brows furrowed, he hadn’t expected that request. So far anything you asked had come to fruition- but taking a teenager in? A troubled one at that, one who likely suffered just as horribly as you had? That was a responsibility he wasn’t sure he could handle.

However, even from down the Hall, you heard the familiar horrid laughter that could have only belonged to the monster who had entrapped you so long ago. Natalia howled, her wails made your legs tremble, and you could faintly hear Amanda shout an obscenity at him, along with his apparently most recent offense; “Keep your kissy faces to yourself, you damn animal.”

Rafael searched your face, but gripped on your arms so you couldn’t go after her. He couldn’t let you face Johnny D again, not before you testified. “I’ll see what we can do,” he promised, nodded to prove sincerity. “I promise, I’ll see what I can make happen.”

A rare moment, one you knew you needed before you had to sit and tell your story to a room full of strangers- you rocked in to kiss him. Your darling husband melted, welcoming your affection as if it were holy water for his sins. It wasn’t until you pulled away, and lay your head on his shoulder, that he took another breath. He’d absolutely see what he could do, especially if his swearing to could get him a kiss, his new currency. He missed all of your affections, he’d do anything to earn them back.

But for now: You had to Testify.


	6. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _mrschiltoncat had brought up on AO3 how awesome it would be to see the trial- and I loooooooved it. :) :) This definitely was intended to be a one-shot, but has **[spiraled out of controooolllll](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153574186837/home-again-the-trial) and I adore it haha.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note: this would never happen in a real court situation, and I get that, but we're here for the sake of the story... lol.

This wasn't like you had practiced.

At least, it didn't feel that way. Before, you had sweet Carisi standing to the left of you, holding your hands atop the wooden banister. When you'd get choked up, he'd tighten his grasp, and Rafael would ask you to please try and keep your eyes on him. Try, please. Keep trying. All you did lately was try.

"Miss _Y/N_ ," you noted he used only your first name, per the plan. The plan. It still felt cold, made you twist at the tissue you had been given. " _Y/N_ , May I call you that?" ADA Rafael Barba had his hand atop a paper on his table, and finally lifted his gaze to find yours. That voice, you hadn't heard him be so assertive since you've been back- he was a master, wasn't he? They hadn't been exaggerating when they told you he had become King of the courtroom. His presence was immaculate, overwhelming.

"Of course," your voice cracked, and you curiously turned to peer at the jury. All eyes were glued to you, sympathetic and daring- it made you uncomfortable. Voyeurs, they were simply voyeurs to the retelling of your horror story. Willing participants ready to listen. And soon they'd be asked to decide the fate of the author.

" _Y/N_ ," Barba inhaled sharply, and kept a safe distance from your seat, helping your vision remain to the left instead of towards to Defense's table. You wished he could say the magic words and render all of this unnecessary, make it all disappear. Oh what you'd do to be in his bed right this moment, hidden with him among the blankets; to giggle and talk about anything other than- "How did you come into acquaintance with Mr. Drake?"

Come into acquaintance. Mister Drake. You didn't like that, any of it. Made the ordeal sound like a chance meeting instead of what it was. "I waved down a taxi for a ride home."

"From where?" He was so smooth, comfortable. There was hardly time to forget what you had rehearsed. Thankfully.

"I went out to dinner with colleagues from work." Your eyes fell, and you stared at your nails burying into the tissue that was nearly in pieces at this point. What if you hadn't had those couple glasses of wine? Would you have noticed the lascivious look in the driver's eye? "I didn't feel safe walking alone, so I thought I should get a ride."

Your sweet guide nodded thoughtfully: "Who was driving that taxi, _Y/N_?"

Instinctively, though he had told you not to hundreds of times before, your eyes shot over to the defendant. He was smirking at you, as if this were the recollection of a fond encounter instead of a kidnapping. "Johnny-" You cut yourself off as you saw the evil man's eyes narrow. "Mr. Drake," you had been told to be as polite as possible, maybe that also meant name-wise, "Mr. Drake was driving the taxi."

Barba nodded, and plucked a folder up from the table. There wasn't anything in there he needed to read from, you knew that, but it helped give him an excuse to look away and regain composure. In the far recesses of his mind, he remembered staring at the clock that night, watching the hand move and mock him in his terror. Trying to call you, the phone never being answered- you always answered his calls, always. The officers advising him how long you had to be missing before they'd do anything, so he went out driving himself without even knowing what he was searching for; "Where did that taxi go?"

"He uh, hit me in the head with something; I still don't know what it was." You tapped at the spot on your head where you remember it struck you, "But it rang, a deafening ring before I blacked out, it must have been metal." If you had known the address, you'd have given it. However, you only knew the hell hole by one name: "but we went to The Lair." You shrugged, knowing full well how vague it was. There were no other ways of explaining it, though.

"What happened when you arrived?" Green, reassuring eyes went back to you as you fidgeted in your seat. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, noticing your cheeks flushing as you recalled that particular evening.

You nodded, before obliging him with a further response, you had to stay strong; "I was advised of my new situation." Again, you were weak- Johnny had cocked his head to the side and shamelessly garnered your attention. "I was stripped, informed as to how the rules worked," your gaze turned to a leer, "I was chained to a banister. Raped, repeatedly."

Barba slid between your stare down, intercepting your line of sight. "What rules?"

"To never speak back. To never say no. To never touch the blinds. To never touch another's chains. To never touch the knobs. To be good," the list went on, but you assumed they didn't need all of them. The words from your time practicing hit your mind- Concise. Quick and concise answers but make sure the point is made. "Basically we were to stay quiet and in the house until needed for services. Like broken statues."

The next question reminded you that you were almost done, with him. "Were you allowed to come and go as you please from this 'Lair'?"

"I've only walked out the front door with a man gripping my arms hard enough to leave bruises," You physically flinched at the memory, it was as if you could still feel the metal in their rings dig into your skin. "And I was always brought right back."

Time for the closing, at least until he addressed the jury later. You closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to keep in your tears. "While you were in Mr. Drake's custody-" oh, you hated how that sounded, and Barba twist his stance when he saw you wince, "what happened to you?"

Your lip trembled, and hesitancy took over. The jurors were staring; you couldn't really focus over their collective glares. Quickly, your emergency spot- your stare easily shifted to sweet Sonny, sitting just to the left of where your husband stood. Barba nodded subtly; glad you had remembered what to do if you got overwhelmed. He was so proud of you, of your strength.

Sonny smiled, and you wrung your hands in your lap. "They stole everything I had on me; my purse, clothes, hair pins and bows. I still don't know what happened to everything, I only ever saw my clothes again. It was so cold," Your distraction nodded when your voice broke, encouraging you to go on. "Johnny raped me, till I was bleeding and... I can still sometimes feel-" you shook, and decided to move on. "Eventually I just became numb, and he started selling me. We had shifts; I didn't realize he was getting money for it until he was arguing about how much I was worth-"

"How much you were worth," Barba repeated for emphasis, and eyed the jury to prove his point further; "so you were demoted from human to property, sold."

"Yes," You choked up, and you had to breathe hard for a second, you even traced your fingertips along your throat as the memories of your restraints came back. "The men would come, they'd have their way, and I'd be left to rot until I was needed again." It felt necessary to advise of the dire situation, of the girls that couldn't bring themselves to do as you were doing now- "And if it wasn't me they wanted, Johnny would find them what they did want. There were so many of us, though most girls came and went just as quickly; they were so young, so sweet, until they became nothing at his hands."

"OBJECTION-" For the first time, the Defense attorney intervened. "The women she's mentioning refused to testify against my client for their own reasons, she can't claim to have known what they went through-"

"But I was there, I held them afterwar-" Your husband wagged his head warningly your direction, green eyes wide with determination, convincing you to stop speaking. You indignantly sat back in your chair: even now, Johnny D could silence you. The pit in your stomach grew.

The judge nodded simply, and graciously ignored your outburst. "Sustained, the jury will disregard the mention of the other girls."

Barba walked up after the quick discussion, until he was only a few feet ahead of your seat. "And how did you finally get out of your daily torture?"

"The detectives raided," you sighed, that day was one you would never be able to forget for the rest of your life. One of the best days of your life. "The younger girls came to me, they were scared you know. We were escorted onto the front yard by the officers, and-" unlike before, a smile had found its way to your face. "We were free."

"Thank you, _Y/N_. Sincerely." He turned, and went back to his seat as if nothing had just happened, cool and collected while fidgeting with the buttons on his suit jacket. You wished this meant it was over, but he had warned you plenty of times before now- his questioning would be the easiest part. "Nothing further, your Honor."

Next.

\---

The defense attorney rose, and a wave of nausea hit.  
You crossed your legs at the ankle and tried to hold your chin high.

"Mrs. Barba," You physically flinched when he used your married name. Right off the bat, he threw you off. Rafael had purposely chosen not to do so, knowing the doors it could open that may be difficult to close. "That is your name, correct?" He condescendingly checked his paperwork again, and you watched Johnny smirk at his side. "Mrs. _Y/N_ Barba?"

"It is," you barely whispered your confirmation.

The sneaky lawyer smiled, you could tell it was fake, and he clapped his hands together jocularly: "When did you and our ADA get married?"

"Objection-" Before today, and other than when Rafael would practice speeches while preparing for law school presentations all those years ago, you had only heard the phrase in movies. Your husband spouting the word made you jump. Odd thing to vehemently object to. "Relevance?"

The defense attorney raised his hands "I digress, was simply explaining the coincidence..." Why would that need explaining? You weren't sure, but you knew he was already aware you were married to the ADA. He had already called you Mrs. Barba out in the hallway just before-

Too quick, no time to think, he was back to questioning you: "Mrs. Barba, did you ever receive anything for performing these 'duties'" he emphasized the phrase with air quotes, "for clients?"

Your stare narrowed, where was he going with this? Rafael had told you during practice: always tell the truth. You had done nothing wrong, answer every question truthfully and fully. "Yes, but-"

"So you were provided compensation," The damned attorney nodded, and you tried to interrupt, but he spoke too loud. You didn't want to be rude. "What would you receive in exchange for sleeping with the men you claim my client brought your way?"

Claim? How is that not a confession? You faltered, your tongue felt heavy and swollen. "He'd usually give me some clothing back, but-" You noticed your husband pinch the bridge of his nose; had you said something wrong?

"Clothes, so you were given gifts." His eyes went wide, and he nodded vibrantly at the answer he received. "Sounds more like prostitution than rape."

"It's hard to appreciate anything when you're chained in a room like a dog," if he was going to keep interrupting you, you'd gladly do the same. "He created a sadistic Stockholm syndrome society in those walls, telling us he would give us to his friends if we didn't comply."

"But you were rewarded for your acts, were you not, Mrs. Barba?"

You glanced to Rafael for help; you could tell was biting the inside of his cheek. "Ma'am, please look at me instead of your husband-" Obediently, you jerked your gaze back to the questioning attorney. This guy really was an asshole, you suddenly decided to un-forgive him for his apology in the hallway.

"He would return things," you stare became vicious, it felt like you were being interrogated instead of asked for clarifications, as Rafael had told you would be the case. "They weren't rewards, they were stolen goods that I had to earn back, just so he could take them aga-"

"Were there times, Mrs. Barba," He smartly slid in front of Rafael, so you couldn't see him without obviously craning to do so. "Where you did indeed volunteer your services for Mr. Drake? Without expecting compensation?"

Oh how you hated that he referred to it as 'compensation'. Your jaw fell ajar, and you wished you could hurl a fist in Johnny's confident grin. Damn him for putting you through this. "He'd have gone for the younger girls-"

"So yes," The attorney carefully held a finger up, efficiently cutting you off. "Yes, you've volunteered to sleep with Mr. Drake without his immediate coercion. Or am I mistaken?"

A shiver. You began to tremble, and most of your hopes for help were dashed when Barba went to writing something down on a notepad in lieu of his typically reassuring eyes finding you in your time of need. "Without regard to context, yes."

"So the man you've claimed maliciously raped you and sold you into sex slavery, is also a man you've willingly slept with and accepted gifts from in exchange for doling out your sexual favors?" He looked appalled, as if you were the villain in this story instead of his sleaze ball client.

Tears sprouted from your eyes, you couldn't contain them any further. Gifts? Would the dress you were captured in being considered a gift? Would the lingerie he had ripped from your frame be considered compensation? Would you offering your body instead of a fourteen year old's be considered willingness? Johnny wasn't always a pedophile; though he knew plenty of men that would gladly pay more for younger girls- he liked a woman once in a while. You were the woman of his collection. His pretty little thing.

"And this same man is being prosecuted by none other than your husband, who surely has interest in this case beyond the search of justice." He motioned towards Rafael, who coolly leaned back in his chair, until- "And who likely would prefer the press to view this as an abduction in lieu of your being seduced into prostitution for the past two years..."

"OBJECTION-" Louder than he had before, boisterous enough to make you whine on the stand. You could tell he was getting upset from how he clenched his jaw, how his fingers curled around the edge of the table until his knuckles went white. "Making assumptions about me is irrelevant to the horrors she's gone through, this case isn't about me."

"Sustained," the Judge graciously agreed, and leered down at the Defense attorney. "Keep your questions and assumptions on your client and the witness."

He nodded, and placed hands on his chest in an attempt to convey his contrition. "I apologize your Honor, I'm just here in pursuit of the truth," hands went flat, so his palms could be open towards you. "I in no way doubt Mrs. Barba has had a rough few years, but does her dissolution into prostitution really warrant my client being charged with her rapes and entrapment?"

Barba interrupted again- "Are there any more questions?" This didn't seem to be about you anymore, the men were discussing among themselves with the kind woman who held a gavel above you. Men. They never saw what was important, did they? The intricacies of pain, the spectrum of emotions. There was so much more to this than a charge and throwing a man in jail- this was a life, your life. The girls' lives. But they wanted to be right. "I believe you're supposed to wait until a closing statement to address the jury in such a way-"

"I digress," the Defense attorney chuckled, as if he were the one under attack instead of your morality. "Calm down, Counsellor, I've finished with my questioning." He strode across the floor, and placed his filthy hand on the banister in front of you. In the back of your mind, you were convinced his palms were filthy and soaking in the blood money he had accepted for this. Involuntarily, your lip curled in a snarl, and you leaned far enough back in your chair to rock it on only two legs. Why did men think women liked when they came close? You hated it. "I'm sincerely sorry for all you've been through, Mrs. Barba."

If he were any less of a composed gentleman, you knew your Rafi would have flew across that room to knock the grin off this cocky asshole's face. You had always wondered why Rafael said he hated lawyers, considering his occupation- but it was quickly becoming obvious. Without waiting for you to respond, the Defense attorney went back to sit with Johnny.

Thank goodness this was almost over.

Or, not-

"Re-direct, your Honor." Barba was up, demanding attention even before permission had been granted. Internally, you cursed him, wishing you could run away and not come back to this position or these stories. Apparently your husband had other ideas in mind, and he nodded gratefully when granted the extra time. This was not part of the plan.

" _Y/N_ \- you spoke of context." More than anything, he wanted to get you off that stand- you were falling apart and he knew it, it was obvious and tangible: but he needed this. He needed this for you, for his case, for the two of you and closure. "Could you please explain the context you claim to have been disregarded while answering the questions the Defense has presented you with?"

You faltered, and began tearing apart the tissue in your fists. "He kidnapped me when I thought I was going home." Little pieces of thin paper fell all over your skirt, to the floor. "I laid naked and broken on the floor for three days before I finally accepted my clothes back, I couldn't mentally handle having them taken away again. I was so weak I couldn’t stand on my feet," you huffed, trying to swallow your sadness before it escaped. "He'd give us food and water if we were 'good', which meant we had to earn our keep. Keep our legs open and our mouths willing..." Your memories came back behind your closed lids, how often had you gone to desperate measures to hide your bills, just for them to be taken from you? "The younger girls would come to me, they'd cry in my lap and I'd have to try and explain how Hell could be a place on Earth-" It felt crude to say, in front of all these people, but your dear husband nodded to confirm you should proceed.

"I was raped, often. By one man, by four at a time, it was common- until it felt like nothing anymore. And I don't know why he kept me." Your shoulders shook as you struggled to find air, and you couldn't help yourself from facing the monster himself. "They sold and traded girls like currency, I don't know how I was kept for the whole two years, but I saw them. I watched them come in scared and I watched them leave too weak to cry or walk." Eyes closed again, you thought you could see their faces, "The babies, they were so young, little angels- I couldn't let him do to the younger girls what..." The tissue was gone, having been torn to unusable shreds. "I already felt inhuman; I couldn't sacrifice my morality too. I couldn't breathe or sleep at night knowing he would do to them what he did to m-"

Barba prompted you further, trying to bring it all to an end. "What he did to you."

Head bobbed, and you finally opened your eyes to match stares with your husband from across the floor. "What he did to me," you confirmed, nodding eagerly. "I'd leave his room with chains etched in my arms and tears in places that couldn't heal before my next shift." Your shoulders shrugged, “but nobody seemed to care when I cried anymore than they did when I bled.”

"So your volunteering for him," he had to swallow so he wouldn't get sick at the phrase. "Was done in order to protect the other girls, not because you were willing."

You nodded, and sadness sprouted in your eyes. The truth- you had volunteered yourself, numerous times. Always for the sake of another, in hopes karma could redeem you and reward your martyrism. "Yes," you finally verbalized, recalling how Rafael had told you that all answers needed to be audible. “It was either me or them and if he was going to rape or kill, I couldn’t let him do it to one of them.”

"Sounds a lot like mental torture and coercion instead of consent to me." He straightened his suit, and took a seat again. "Nothing further, your Honor," As if there were something more important, your husband went to doodling on a piece of paper. A necessary distraction.

And it was over. You were escorted from the stand, and Sonny eagerly shifted so you could sit between him and Rollins, just behind your husband. Rafael stood from his seat as they prepared for their final witness, and placed a hand innocently atop yours when he found you gripping onto the banister.

"You were perfect," he advised gently, and nodded to prove his sincerity. "You were perfect, this is going to go so well-"

He had said no affection, so you tried to keep it brief, but just to calm down your frazzled nerves since no more words could form on your tongue- you lay your cheek down over his knuckles. Rafael bit his lip, and remained statuesque and stoic. Oh, how he wanted to pet your hair or lower so he could kiss you. But not now, no.

Carisi ran a careful hand down your back- the kind touch still made you jump, you could tell the difference between the palm of a woman and a man. Once up, you sighed, and nodded up to your husband before reclining in your seat.

And ADA Barba was back, face calm and poise present. He watched eagerly as Ariel was brought to the stand. This would be so much easier.

\---

Ariel, the catalyst for the rescue, had been strong as well. She had her mother there for support, unlike most of the other girls who had been asked to testify. It was a funny trend; you noted absently, how only the girls who had support outside of the squad were willing to speak up. Only girls who felt safe now; which meant there were girls who didn't feel quite so safe even now. Your heart broke at the consideration.

Everything had gone uniformly, apparently well.  
It wasn't until the end of her testifying that things got odd.

It was hard enough focusing on Ariel, as she spoke statements you knew to be true that were challenged by the defense. However, you hadn't expected the shouting from behind you- someone calling her a liar? You twist in your seat, as did most everyone, and all eyes were on the slightly familiar face. You knew those girls, they had different pimps, but all had been through the lair at some point. Why would they argue- they've suffered similar atrocities? This made no sense?

The girls were arguing with the judge. She threatened to clear the courtroom, and Amaro went with Benson to try and silence the commotion. Everything was moving too fast, none of it made any sense. Longingly, you turned towards Rafael, who was also waiting patiently to see how this turned out. He caught your stare just before the climax hit-

Hell broke loose. To your horror, Johnny rose from his seat, and he tossed over the table he had been sitting at. Instinctively, as if the lion had broken out of the cage, you screamed- shrill, loud, enough to accentuate the rumble caused by the wood crashing against the floor. You didn't notice him snag for an officer, you had been shoved gruffly to the ground by your diligent husband.

How had he gotten to you so quickly? You weren't sure, but you were thankful- Rafael hovered himself over you when the gun shots rang. With your cheek pressed against the cool ground, you didn't see what was unfolding, but those weren't the first shots you've heard. "RAFAEL WHAT'S HAPPENING?"

He didn't oblige you with an answer; instead, he hushed you and spoke gently- "Mi amor, please be still." If it had been anyone else or if his voice didn’t immediately soothe your nerves- his pressure over you would have been made it hard to breathe, ignited your fight or flight. Instead, you welcomed it, and forced yourself into his arms so you could at least be sitting instead of lying down. Rafael allowed your shift, since the chaos had managed its way into the hallway.

More gun shots, you jumped in place, and Rafael eagerly hugged you closer to his chest so he could bury your face in his jacket. You could hear shouting and hollering from the hallway, you clutched fistfuls of your husband’s cool dress shirt in your hands. “I’ve got you, don’t be scared,” He pressed his cheek against your temple so his words hit your ear, and you closed your eyes so you could be lost in his voice instead of the chaos. “I’ll never let you go, mi amor, please just stay calm.”

\---

After they told you that Johnny had been shot, it felt like the gauzy veil had been torn from your eyes. Everything you had been numb to, all the comforts you’d been unwilling to accept: it all made more sense. You had demanded to see the body- it sounded sadistic when it first fell from your lips, but Rafael didn’t even flinch. He pulled strings and begged the coroners, with Olivia diligently by his side: they both understood that you needed this closure, to know the part of your life ruled by his hands was done.

He was pale, nearly blue, and stiff as a board. You circled the table, bent at the waist to be sure this wasn’t a trick of the eyes, something hiding beneath the slab. There wasn’t, of course. It was real.

Johnny Drake was dead. You felt more alive than you had since that night in the taxi.

About ten minutes after seeing the man who stole two years and your dignity from you; you thought just maybe, you could feel it coming back to you. Your spine straightened, and you chewed on the inside of your lip. This was justice. Justice for every girl who was too afraid to speak; Justice for every woman who left his house in a rolled up carpet; Justice for every time he violated your being.

“Rafi,” you spoke airily, and ran your fingertips along the edge of the table. He diligently stood at attention, but watched your nails drag against the metal. “Rafi, now what?”

He sighed, and thoughtfully closed his eyes for a moment. “Now, we live. We move on.” This was the best result, really- Johnny would have gone to jail and prison, but wouldn’t have received a death sentence unless any of the murder charges came to fruition, which was unlikely. “The only legal recourse we could go for at this point are the others.”

You nodded, and twist away from the table so you could gather his hands in your own. “The other men, the pimps?”

His thumbs ran over your cold knuckles- the morgue was always chilly. Rafael noted your shivering, and released your hold on his hands so he could remove his jacket. “Yes, but you’ve done plenty, that’s just more trial that you don’t need on your heart-“

“No,” you placed your palms on his chest, and stood still as he draped the warm wool over your shoulders. The silk lining felt nice, smooth and comforting. “No, Rafi, let’s get them.” Your insistence was noted, but he tried to shake his head and convince you not to worry about them. They were underlings, worthless, men who knew they were paying for sex slaves.

“Mi Amor, you’ve done more than enough-“ He held your face in his hands, and tried to catch your stare. “We’d only be able to charge them with rape, maybe trafficking if we could get any girls to cooperate and corroborate, but-“

His logic was interrupted, when you rocked up to gift a kiss on his lips. Your darling man; the shining night ushering you from your nightmares, your attorney who protected your honor on the stand. If anyone could rectify the issues haunting you and solve the puzzle of your heart- it was him. Your rare affection was generously returned, and his hands slid to your spine while yours found his warm cheeks.

“Rafael, I need this,” you spoke against his mouth, and he mindlessly nodded to show he understood. Your head and hands bobbed along with his agreeance. “I want them to know what they did was wrong, to suffer, or at least force them to answer to it-“

Just as uncommon as your willingness to be close, Rafael introduced the idea of an additional kiss, and you approved without second thought. Two kisses in a few minute timespan? It felt like he hit the lottery, all over again. “We’ll get to work then,” he spoke breathlessly after finally pulling away. “You’ll need to identify them in a lineup, do you think you can handle that-“

“You two were made for each other,” Olivia teased via interruption, before crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re both damn martyrs, I should have known two Barbas were a force to be reckoned with.” Her shoulders sashayed sassily, and you giggled through your happy tears. “Mess with one of you and the whole faction gets brought down.”

Rafael rolled his eyes, and took one of your hands in both of his. “Let’s get out of here, I’m almost colder than the cadavers.” His stroll started, and you were dragged along behind him. You weren’t quite sure what he was talking about- you’ve never felt warmer before. “Plus, Liv, you’ve got some work to do- we need to corner his most prominent johns and business partners, you can’t convince me there aren’t records somewhere indicating the other participants in this.”

The legal jargon was over your head, and so you rest your face against his arm while coiling yourself tightly to him. Never had the loss of a life felt like such a miraculous gain; you could breathe again. Really, truly breathe.

Olivia nodded along, “We’ll need a warrant for something like that; I’m assuming you can make it happen?”

He wriggled his brows, and both companions laughed. “I think I can manage it,” he squeezed your hand, and leaned over to land a third kiss on your forehead. Rafael would take all the smooches you’d let him lay on you. “I am a miracle worker, after all.”

“Yes you are,” you cheered for your husband, and pressed lips on his cheek to thank him for being so willing to help you. “Yes, you certainly are.”

Your compliment brought forth the biggest smile he had been able to manifest since your honeymoon; Barba would take down every john, pimp, and boogeyman if it meant you’d know he loved you. He’d do anything for you.

And especially now, you believed it. “Let’s go home, Rafael.”

“Of course,” He’d oblige you, happily, as always. “And soon we’ll bring down every damned monster who ever touched you.” 

The Barbas were ready for Justice.


	7. Down Time / "Tell Me You Need Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per Ask [**HERE**](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153793598317/ok-here-is-my-request-cant-remember-which-number), Per Prompt List [**HERE**](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153258366362/drabble-challenge).  
>  Original posting can be found [**HERE**](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153793608582/home-again-request-down-time-tell-me-you), :).

After two or so months of you being home, Rafael found himself faltering. It wasn’t a question of love, nowhere close to it- his love for you was the only thing he really understood, could comprehend.

What he couldn’t understand: how you still flinched whenever he touched you and you hadn’t noticed him approach, how you found yourself elsewhere most evenings despite falling asleep in his bed, how you kept a stiff distance between you and him when the evening wore on. It was as if you were far away, still locked up in the Lair.

But, you weren’t. It just felt like you were.

“Darling,” Rafael held his hand in front of your face, just for a moment, so it was no surprise when he laid his palm over your cheek. You hated surprises lately. Happily, you coddled into his touch, and he grinned as you squirmed. His melancholy was tangible, though- heavy. It made you flinch even without context.

His pause inclined you to think he was awaiting a response. “Yes?” You smiled, despite his sudden frown. What could be bringing him down so much? “What’s wrong, Rafi?” You reached over the blankets bunched between you two- the bit of space you unintentionally still placed whenever you were lying in the dark with him. Of course, he didn’t take it offensively: you couldn’t even sit on the same sofa as another man if the lights weren’t bright enough, he’d gladly accept his spot on the other side of the covers. Typically, he’d wait for you to fade to sleep, then slip closer just until he could at least feel your warmth.

But, lately, you had stopped sleeping. Again.  
And he’d wake up not with blankets between him and you, but rooms.

It had almost become a game in itself- every morning he’d play hide and seek with your unconscious form while he went to make coffee. Sometimes he’d find you in a chair, by a lamp (his electric bill had gone insane since you’d been home), reading a novel or magazine of some sorts. Other days, you’d be on the couch in the living room, the television still playing black and white films regarding love and romance. Once he had found you in his home office, curled up in his chair with your knees up to your chest. He had accused you of sleep walking, but you specifically recalled your traveling- you said the room smelled like him, it was comforting to be surrounded by his things.

So why wasn’t him lying next to you just as soothing?

He broke the peaceful silence first, “May I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Curiously, you glanced over at his pursed lips, to see if your joke went well.

Rafael rolled his eyes, and teasingly pinched at the apple of your cheeks so the spot pinked. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make you giggle. “Then, may I ask you two more questions?”

“Sounds like you only have one left.”

His serious face overtook him, and it almost made you afraid. Perhaps this wasn’t a time for your taunting. “Do I-” he choked, and sighed before swallowing through the words struggling to find their way out. It’s funny, really, how some questions can replay in your mind for days- but when it comes time to verbalize them, only nonsense can be expected. “Do I make things… harder? For you?”

Your brows furrowed. That certainly wasn’t a question you had expected. “What, Rafi?” Clarification was necessary, and guilt spiraled through his spine when he was confronted with your bewilderment. He was your savior, your only solace. Literally: no other man could touch you or come close to it. Polite gentlemen holding doors or offering to carry your shopping bags made tears sprout to your eyes, bell boys begging to assist with your luggage and trail behind you brought forth anxiety attacks. “What do you mean harder?”

Oh, how he wanted to take it back. Already.

“I just wonder if you’d,” he was stammering, it was odd, and it made you afraid as well. “If you’d feel better staying with a woman or on your own-”

Your jaw fell open, and his eyes shot wide. “Do you want to get rid of me?” Obstinately, you rose from the bed, placing hands on the little bundle of separation between the two of you. Propped above him, you had a new vantage point, and his downtrodden features only slightly convinced you off the tingle of rage biting at the back of your brain.

First instinct was to mirror your movements, jump up to have this conversation face to face- but he worried it would come off as aggressive. There was no point in sending you into a weepy frenzy; so instead, Rafael submissively rolled supine, so he could stare up at you. Maybe you’d feel more like being honest if he stayed low. “Of course not,” he couldn’t resist at least curling fingers around your wrist, and you allowed it while carefully watching his hand move. “I just worry about you, you leave the bed all the time-”

“Is that what this is about?” Your scowl surprised him. “Just because I won’t sleep with you? You said you were okay with being abstinent until-”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he broke his previous rule while interrupting, and propped up on elbows. Still beneath you, just a few inches at this point. “It’s not about that, I’d wait forever for you and that’s the least of my concerns, it’s just-” his lip trembled, and you lowered yourself onto your arms.

You two stared at the other like sad paintings, the miscommunication causing enough tension to nearly leave you breathless. “Rafael, just say what you need to say,” you whispered it, and lay your hand next to where his fell atop the sheets. Not touching, but close enough that you could be, if either of you were brave enough to close the miniscule gap. “I can’t hear your thoughts.”

Your sweet husband shamelessly hooked his pinky with yours, and watched carefully as you fought against the tremble that nearly always came with skin touching skin. How brave you were. It was time for honesty, the same honesty he had demanded from you through the trial and on the stand. You deserved it as much as he did.

“It’s more about you leaving, Honey, I-” He sighed, and used his free hand to comb back his hair. A moment of time bought to think. “You never stay in the bed, you always go elsewhere. You don’t even want to lay with me, you always put the comforter between us-” You wilted, obviously, and he quickly tried to fix whatever had been poorly worded. “I know you don’t mean to, but it happens. I haven’t laid with you, next to you, since the dreams started and, I just miss you-”

Tears. They fell like the ashes from Pompeii, collecting onto the blankets beneath your face. This wasn’t what you wanted for him, how you wanted to make him feel. How do you explain that which you don’t understand, though? Nights were easier alone, quieter and more comfortable. You always intended on coming back to bed, but fighting sleep was a battle meant for a warrior. Not your tired eyelids.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafael pushed himself up, so he sat alongside you on his side of the bed. He overcame your wall of soft safety, reaching over the divide to brush at your cheeks with his thumbs. As always, he stole every tear he could. “I didn’t mean it, don’t worry about it,” his previous accusation was left in the air, while he tried to drown it with retractions. Nevermind. He’d rather sleep on the other side of pillows and search for you every morning if it meant you wouldn’t cry. “I was just worried, about you. For you.”

You subtly pulled back, so he couldn’t reach your face from where he sat, and you took a moment to consider. “If I make things harder, I’d try to find somewhere easier- or I could leave.” His now-free fingers fluttered by his chest, and his voice jumped with hope of a better solution. “Honey if that’s it; I could go, until you’re ready for me to come back.”

Go? Leave? It sounded like Hell, all over again, yet worse than ever.

“Mi amor, please don’t think twice about it;” knowing he could be pushed away for it, he cupped your face in his hands, and wished he could take back all of his silly words. Why couldn’t he had just been content, lying silently at your side? He cursed himself- for the tears he caused, for the doubt that shone through your eyes, for not being content with what you’d already gifted him. Your existence was enough; your touch and proximity would have to come with time. “I’m so sorry, please-”

Instead of rejecting him, as you had done so subtly so very many times before, you violently tore at the blankets. Your actions were so chaotic yet purposeful; your husband recoiled and shifted back to his side of the line in the sand. Rafael watched silently, as you tossed sheets into the air so they fell gently at your feet. Then the pillows, all too many of them, thrown down at the end of the bed furthest from you. His eyes squint: trying to decipher your intention with the feral reconfiguration of the bed, ready to chase after you if you left and ran to the hallway-

Instead, once all your fortress’s building blocks were stripped from the both of you, you dove for your Rafi. Arms coiled tightly around his waist, and you boldly lay your wet face against his bare chest. Your legs, the long limbs that he used to describe to his friends as ‘going on for days’- they tangled around and between his own until it was hard to tell where one of you began and the other ended. You craned your neck, so you could lay silky kisses on the soft underpart of his chin.

Rafael froze, but allowed you to embrace him in every way you saw fit. Your face on his skin, your legs running along his own, your arms around him, and your hands tracing little paths up his back as you used him for leverage. Oh, and your heavenly pecks, each time your lips pressed against him was never enough; like a starving man, he welcomed each one, holding his breath so he could savor the spark of electricity that accompanied them. Oxygen, water, food- the only sustenance he needed was your love. And now, he felt it, from more than your words or your acceptance of his existence. So cautiously, he laid his hands atop your nightgown, and hugged you closer to him while meticulously gauging your reaction.

You didn’t pull away, nor did you try and convince him to loosen his grip.

“Rafael, I love you,” it was a whisper, but he rapidly bowed his chin so you could funnel your words into his ear. Other than your heads, neither of you dared to move, lest your bravado or the spell be broken. “Darling, everything is hard, but you’re the easiest part of it all.”

He nodded, to show he understood, and combed fingers through your hair to remove the loose strands from your face. This wasn’t what he wanted, you to feel guilty or responsible; yet at the same time it was more than he could have fathomed asking for.

His silence, as rare as it was, gave you time to follow up: “How can I prove it?” You knew he had done so much for you, even when you were locked away like a prisoner. After having come home, he had shown you all the leads they followed. You had found all the Missing Persons ads he had hidden in a desk drawer, and he explained how he read them daily- and saved the Sudokus that appeared with them in the Sunday paper.

Why? Because you love Sudokus.

“You’ve done so much for me, Rafi-“ You pressed further as his silence prevailed. Perhaps he was steadfast in his decision, you could recall from before your ordeal how arguing was always futile. “I’d do anything I can for you, you know that right?”

That was another question he didn’t know how to answer. It felt cheap to only give you silence, though. “I just need to know I’m doing more good than bad for you,” What a selfish brute he was, asking for so much from you after all you’ve gone through. Rafael felt monstrous, but he couldn’t hold it in. Not any longer, he needed to at least know he was fighting and holding out for something he’d have a chance at, to know he wasn’t just complicating your life further. “All I need is to know you love me, for you to **tell me you need me** -”

You uncoiled your arms from around him, and took to a position you had assumed hundreds of times before with him, but not once since your return home. After separating, you sat up, and unblushingly threw a leg on either side of his. His eyes went wide, and you watched carefully as he swallowed- hard. Now perched atop his lap, you sat. He trembled when you reached forward to take his face in your hands.

A kiss: one for his brows that must have twitched every time he thought he found the way to you, one for his eyelids which had stayed open too many nights while you were gone, one for his nose, and for both corners of his lips. Before he could return the affection, you gathered him to your chest, until you could feel his cheek on the top swell of your breasts. You two were flush together, for likely the first time you’ve initiated since being home. “Rafi, Darling,” your eyes shut when you felt his careful hands rest on the small of your back, “I need you more than anything; more than air, more than water.” Absently, you ran your fingers through his dark hair, and left your other hand against his face so he wouldn’t be inclined to move. "You’re the summer breeze I never thought I’d feel again, the only one who can quench my thirst-“

Rafael sighed, audibly, and laid his face precisely where you had placed him. There was nowhere else he’d rather be. You were so warm, radiating peace and comfort. He hadn’t been able to find anything better than you: not coffee, not music, not work. The sound of your heartbeat was the only rhythm he had ever needed, even if he hadn’t known it before this moment. “I love you, _Your Name_.” His voice shook, and you easily decided to melt against him.

That night, and each one thereafter- you wouldn’t leave the bed. The wall of blankets crumbled permanently, and this time, you held onto him instead of the other way around. Sleep found you easier than it had any of the nights that had led you to wandering; dreamland overtook you somewhere between his throat and the soft hollow between his shoulder blade and collarbone. In the midst of his scent and his body encompassing yours, there was nirvana. Having you coiled to him- your ankles hooked into his, your arms finding their home behind his back, your breath falling over his chest; this was all Rafael needed.

Yet now, he knew it. Knew you still loved him, knew you needed him. He was confident once more- in his ability to guide you, to care for you. Tomorrow you’d be facing the johns the detectives had collected, you’d have to pick them from a lineup and explain how you recognized them from the scars left on your heart. All the blemishes he tried so hard to wipe away, but felt like he could never achieve.

Anything was achievable now, though. With you.

And Rafael Barba would not let you down.


	8. From John To Andy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Addition to the **[Home Again](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/153821188552/ada-barba-home-again-series)** series. Brought about by [@mrschiltoncat](https://tmblr.co/mhD_XxweDGe2ICqNLkYk3lw) ‘s suggesting a confrontation of Barba & Johns needed to happen, which will be expounded upon in an additional chapter…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A moment to advise- there’s no way this shit would go down in an actual legal proceeding but I’m here for the story soooo I’m sorry if it bugs you too much, but otherwise, just turn a blind eye to the practical inconsistencies like I am ;)._

You were on one side of glass; glass that you made them prove was one sided. Over, and over again. It didn’t help much that you could see your own reflection, something you were still growing accustomed to. Of course, you’d put on a little weight since returning to Rafael’s care- but it was still hard to look at yourself. Prominent cheek bones that some models would kill for, yet you yearned for when they used to be pink and plumped. The reflection just seemed to mock you.

You had paced the length of your protective glass from both sides, gliding your fingertips across to prove to yourself one crucial point- they couldn’t see you. They couldn’t see you. You were just as invisible as the demons you were damned with. The detective’s opinion wasn’t enough, and Rafael knew it. So he allowed you to examine the rooms, to walk alone and study however you saw fit. Nobody would argue with him, it was harmless after all, just time consuming.

You could take all the time you wanted, in his world. You were his good morning, his closing time bell. His world hinged on your taking your time. Everything he needed or wanted, he waited for. For your readiness, your willingness. What was ten more minutes, or a thousand? Nothing with the promise of you.

It took prompting from Benson before he was willing to guide you along, if you’d consider a firm elbow to the back ‘prompting’. “Honey, are you ready?” No, no you weren’t, but you had stalled too long already. It was back to keeping space between you, no hand holding or pulling at his cuff links. And so, you nodded, before you  diligently went to your position alongside Detective Carisi.

“Cut the sweet talk, counselor-” There were multiple attorneys in the room with you, along with the detectives and Lieutenant.

You had been advised that there would be a set of seven men walking through the room. Together, you and the ADA agreed with the attorneys that all men would have to speak, since many encounters occurred in dark rooms. They’d say 'She is a pretty thing’- Johnny always sold you on the slogan, ( _Rafael nearly got sick when you advised him of your requested identifying phrase_ ).

Your last odd request, which took a while for the counselors to agree to: you wanted them to have sleeves rolled up, and to be willing to hold out their arms so you could see their hands and wrists from your side of the glass- if need be. It’s possible you remembered the fists that groped for you more than you recalled most faces- you saw more hands in your nightmares than eyes. Upon review of your ordeal, you had decided that perhaps the perpetual darkness was the only source of mercy Johnny had supplied you.

The group filed in, all looking oddly small and sad, you inhaled sharply as they stood with backs against the wall. They each held a number, and it felt almost as if the tables had turned. You were making a choice, damning another soul to a Hell you hoped would be parallel to the one you had been left to rot in. You’d condemn them, proudly. For every girl too afraid to speak, for every night their memories stole from your darling husband, for every time you jumped thinking they were lurking in the shadows.

Before they could even begin to recite their line, you were tapping on the glass. Carisi quickly grabbed at your wrist in an effort to stop the noise before any attorneys could complain, before ADA Barba could stop him- you weren’t allowed to do that. The mere moment his long fingers curled around your wrist, you instinctively bolted away, all while planting a firm hand on your perceived assailant’s chest to push him off. Damnit. Olivia caught you against her chest, and you allowed her to rest hands on your shoulder blades before explaining your outburst.

“Two and Seven.” Pointing this time, without committing the same offense that had caused you to lose your composure. You were determined- you remembered them specifically. They came often and they _loved_ you, requested you most times. “I think one’s an Andy and they call the short one 'Bub’.” An attorney grunted from behind you, and tried to stifle it with a cough. You shot your gaze towards the noise, but your husband pointed a finger to direct you back to the glass.

“Noted; but we’ll still put them through the process.” Rafael’s nose crunched as he gave the order; he was staring through the same barrier you had been in pure condemnation. He had been over what crime the men you picked out had to commit- raping you. He was well aware he had been very, very clear about that. Unfortunately, simple prostitution wouldn’t be worth the chase right now- that could come soon. Now, you needed to get the monsters off the street. Nothing less, only the worst johns and pimps, it had sounded so commonplace when he prepared himself.

They had names now, though. Not 'johns’. In there was 'Bub’ and 'Andy’.  
What’s in a name? He never knew, until he found himself praying for Hell to come upon learning two of them. Bub, Andy. Andy, Bub. He was repeating the syllables in his head, over and over again. How often had you heard those names, he wondered, and could only assume the answer when he stole a moment to look into your face: too damn many. He thought he’d be sick.

Yet, here he stood with a wall between him and two men who you undoubtedly knew had reeked havok on your soul, your body. For a split second, he thought of how you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him; because men like them had torn so at you. Every night you couldn’t settle next to him, because these monsters ‘chose’ you.  "Noted,“ he mumbled again, then motioned for Benson to continue the viewing.

She easily relayed her orders: “We need you each to say 'Pretty Little Thing,’ in turn.”

1: You shook a no, you didn’t recognize it. Not at all. It was nice, you wondered what else he had to do today. 2 had already been damned- Andy. Oh you’d never forget that voice, that arrogance and whine. 3 was a thankful additional 'no’, how blessed it was for a reprieve.

4\. Hold on; that tone, that annoyance. “Wait-” You held your hands up, and closed your eyes. “Can he say it again?” Were you allowed to ask that? You could only hope so- it held the faintest tinge of resemblance.

He was told to, and he obliged. Eyes still shut, you reached knowingly to your side and your palm found Rafael’s shoulder. “Does he have a tattoo on his wrist?” The ADA rolled a finger to Olivia in hopes of convincing her to play along, and she did- sighing right before she requested this ‘4′ to hold his arms out. “A rose, I think? Or a flower of some sort?” Hopefully you weren’t just imagining the correlation- but you’d swear…

“Yep,” Rafael succinctly confirmed your suspicion, and wrote the number down in his notebook. What was that feeling in his gut, rage? Disgust? It was confusing and unprofessional, and strikingly resembled heartburn. Or ache. “Good job, let’s move on.” He choked up, but coughed in an effort to mask the break. This was so incredibly more difficult than he had initially predicted.

5, no. You didn’t think you’d heard that accent before. Would they tell you what it was if you asked, the song was oddly curious. No time to linger, move along. 6, though- Yes. You nodded rapidly and confirmed again verbally, “He only came by during the day, a scar on his cheek?” Your eyes were still shut, you had been focused on their voices. There was no way you could have noticed the scar- Olivia even had to ask him to approach the glass so they could get a better look.

“Yes,” Rafael was growing more and more terse as the count went up. “You’re almost done, Y/N. One more.”

7. “Bub.” You nodded, and tears finally sparked in your eyes- both relief that it was over, and from the memories. “They call him Bub, he always asked for m-” your voice hitched before you could finish, and your shoulders shook as crying overtook you.

The four attorneys left in a huff, and Rafael handed off the notepad of numbers you had chosen. He couldn’t stomach looking at them any longer. Once the room had been left to himself, you, and Carisi- your sweet man shamelessly buried his eyes into the crook of your neck. Not a word was spoken, you wouldn’t have known how to respond if there had been one- it felt as if your new tower of blocks was tumbling. 

It was one thing to recite a ghost story; giving the demons and specters a face and a name almost made it too real. Too tangible, too disgusting. You felt weak, exhausted; facing men you had prayed to never see again from the opposite side of your reflective fortress- “Rafael, I’m tired,” the moment you spoke, his hand flew to the back of your head, so he could massage your scalp. Just as he’d have done if you two were lying across his sofa in lieu of standing in the precinct. Heavenly. He only nodded, and finally tore himself from the protection of your skin, after great hesitation.

“Why don’t you go home?” He sniffled, though you were certain no tears had fallen. “I have some more work to do on this, but I shouldn’t be too late. I promise.” Rafael lay his forehead against yours, the pressure proving to be just enough convincing for you to oblige. A rest away from this dreary place sounded lovely, poetic. Though you wished it could be with him. “I can send Carisi with you, you like him. He’ll protect you.”  


At first, you didn’t like it- but what would you do without protection? Hesitantly, you nodded, and rocked to kiss your tired husband on his lips. A last spark of electricity before the waiting game started again- you’d savor it. And accept his judgement- Sonny wasn’t all that bad.

As you gathered your things, Rafael pondered over his findings.

Four. Four men. You had easily, unquestionably, identified four men out of seven. A majority. Over half. The end of his pen unceremoniously tapped at the listing of numbers, all the ones you had deemed guilty. The oddest urges surged through Rafael’s blood- yet logically, they were all wrong. No violence, no rage, no anything that would possibly soothe his fragile nerves.

Except You. And he watched you prepare for your descent down the elevator diligently, noting every way you mindlessly twist and turned to gather your accessories. Purse, jacket, scarf- Rafael crossed the room to tie the abundance of fluff and warmth around your throat. As difficult as it may be to face the monsters who stole your thoughts from him- none of it could compare. Not to the gift of buttoning up the last two ebony circles on your pea coat, not the twist and knot he performed to keep that scarf in place, not to the modest and naive peck he’d leave on your lips before you twist to leave the precinct.

Anything, and everything he’d ever have to do- would be worth those moments. The split second in time where nothing mattered besides your pursed pout, awaiting his kiss. You were his well wishes, his midnight breeze, his moonlight glisten, his sweet solace.

Well, you were everything.

—

“Carisi!” Rafael snapped in the air, hoping to convince him to move quickly. It worked, obviously, and also caused you to pause a bit at the chaos. Two birds, one stone. “Carisi, I need a favor.”

Naturally, the detective conceded, and took the hint when his jacket was shoved into his arms. “What’s up, Barba?” He pulled the coat over his shoulders, and went to work zipping up before he as even aware of the intention. Sonny was not in the market of asking questions, though.

“Listen to me, I need you to take my wife back home;” Seriously, Rafael stopped him in his tracks, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The demand for attention was rewarded, and Sonny leaned in diligently to listen as carefully as he knew he should. “But please- don’t touch her.”

“Oh, Counselor, Come on-” He laughed, as if it were a joke; but this was not a typical harassment from a loving husband to a buddy. This was purposeful, necessary.

“No, Carisi;” Rafael allowed the joke to float for a moment, even rocking him a bit before walking back towards the conference room, out of ear shot of you. “Trust me, you wouldn’t have a chance,” a jocular wink before the somber conversation continued. “But seriously, never touch her. Not on accident, not out of kindness, especially not on purpose-” He nodded, pausing to do so, until it was returned with a bob of understanding. 

Carisi was already digging for his own keys, as his colleague went on. “When she gets to the house, you have to go in first, and turn on the lights for the entrance,” Barba held his right arm out, to signify where he’d be able to find the switch. It felt like he was talking about a dog or a child, but every order held high priority. None could be ignored, he prayed he had made the right choice as temporary protector for you. Not just your physical being, but your fragile sensibilities. “She’s going to go through and turn on every light in the condo.” A finger jut out, for emphasis, and he wagged it for each following syllable- “Every. Light. Let her.”  


Sonny stopped walking, forcing the ADA to do the same. These were important rituals, he could tell from his tone of voice. There was no way he’d mess this up due to not listening closely enough. “Okay, and anything else?” Why didn’t he carry a notepad on him anymore? Now would have been the perfect time-

“If she wants to make you dinner, let her, and please tell her you love it.” Oh, how Rafael had never been so thankful for this tall, clumsy man until now. Sweet Carisi, sweet and sometimes inconvenient Carisi. Every hour of shadowing was suddenly welcomed, what a sweet lad he was. “Don’t sneak up on her, speak loudly so she knows where you are. Even if she asks you to leave, don’t. If she has a fit, just call me, and I can be there so fast-”

“Counselor,” Sonny landed his own hands on the shorter man, catching eye contact. “I promise I’ll take good care of her, just do what you need to do. She’ll be happy in bed by the time you get home.”

No you wouldn’t. Rafael knew you wouldn’t go to bed without him, no chance would you choose to lay in that room by yourself. He’d find you on the sofa, the one across the room from the chair he knew Sonny would sit in. Or maybe you’d wander to his study after Sonny dozed off to sleep… There was no telling.

“Thank you,” Rafael paused, and swallowed all the sarcasm that instinctively flew to his tongue- how does that happen so quickly? “Thank you, Sonny.” Eye contact, held and nodded to prove it had been accounted for. An understanding, a mutual exchange of manly acceptance.  


He can’t lie- Dominick Carisi is most likely the only man Rafael Barba would gladly trust to take care of you just as diligently as he would.

—

You had called him 'Andy’.  
To your ADA’s legal delight, his name was Andrew. Andrew Smith.

Perfect. _Composure: Noun._

“We can handle this, Barba-” Benson was trying to offer a reprieve, though she knew how futile it was. Even if he wasn’t sitting in the room with these men, they’d be on his mind. In his nightmares, unless he faced these boogeymen head on. No way was he not going to be involved in their downfall.

And so, without acknowledging the acceptance of a retreat, Rafael Barba boldly strode into the interrogation unit.

The man twitched as soon as the duo entered the dimly lit room. He flinched often, actually, notably so. Nerves? Drugs? Both experienced colleagues suspected the latter, and Olivia’s eyes traced subtly up his arms. Andrew caught her, and feverishly unrolled his sleeves until he could feel the cuffs on his wrists. Might as well have confessed. "I dunno what this is about,” he conceded initially, and took a moment to try and survey his interrogators. Neither looked as if they’d be ready to deal with his bullshit. _Noted,_

“We just have some questions,” Olivia advised, and took a seat across from him, diligently lying out papers for them all to review. Photographs, ones of you, upon your initial release from The Lair. A few more of Natalia, and of the other girls involved in the raid. “Any of these young ladies look familiar to you?”

The color drained from the suspect’s face, and Rafael mentally noted how his gaze lingered on the photos of you. He placed a hand on the table, atop a closed folder- he didn’t think he could handle sitting at a time like this. “Who are you?” Andrew asked, and made an attempt to hold his chin high while awaiting clarification.

“I’m Lieutenant Benson,” she was still being kind, soft. Usually the best way to start. Pulling out the big guns was unnecessary at this point, despite how badly Rafael wanted to annihilate the son of a bitch. _Composure, example: Rafael Barba was hanging on to his last thread of composure._ “And this is our ADA, Rafael Barba.”

His handcuffs clinked, as if he actually thought he’d be able to offer a hand for shaking. No chance; Rafael smirked just a tad. Every minor victory felt wondrous. Now that he knew who he was dealing with, Andrew looked back to the photographs, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. It was obvious they weren’t strangers, he’d have denied it or asked why he was here by now if he was sincerely clueless. 

However, it was when his eyes squint, that he finally altered and actually looked afraid. “That one dated an old colleague,” he admitted briefly, and nodded down towards the photograph of You. “Sweet little thing,” he turned towards his questioners, and furrowed his brows when he noticed how red the other questioner had become. He looked angry, enraged. Apparently they were dealing with an idiot, he had damned himself the moment he utilized the familiar phrase.

The ADA appeared so angry because: He was. All Rafael could think about was how this man, this monster, had stolen your dignity and days of your existence from him. While you were tortured, he shed tears over pillows, and likely you had been doing much of the same. Two lost souls, damned to a purgatory between the unknown and wishing for death- and yours was crumbling at hands like his. Yet now, he found him. He had him right here- vigilante justice had never sounded so sweet, so goddamn appealing.

“You go by ‘Andy’ much?” Rafael bounced off the table, giving a light shove that efficiently moved his folder so the photographs were forced closer towards him. “And what do you mean by ‘dated’, precisely?” His typical stoicism prevailed- for now. Just for now. It was hanging by a thread, just as he was- Olivia shot a wary glare his direction just to prove she felt the disconnect as well.  


What did he mean by that? Andrew wasn’t sure; how was he supposed to explain that the woman in the photograph was his pimp friend’s highest priced whore? “What am I being accused of?” He whispered it, and turned instead to Benson- she looked nicer. Less angry. Easier to read. “What did she say?”

“Apparently your friend isn’t the only one she’s been with,” Olivia was making a point, but Rafael physically winced at the phrase. Maybe he should go, this was hard to stomach. Had his colleagues been right all along- was there such a thing as being too close?  


The bastard chuckled, and Rafael literally thought he would leap across the table. What was so funny? “I mean,” apparently Andy had decided upon an technique. The Blame Game. “She wasn’t exactly difficult to woo-”

A fist, the ADA’s, slammed against the metal and caused the table to jump nearly as high as the suspect did. His outburst had been inappropriate, unprofessional, uncalled for. It was no surprise when two other detectives entered the room. Rafael could not stand to let any slander of your character stand, despite knowing how he should. For the sake of the case; but what about for the sake of YOU, his precious dependent? The most crucial part of his heart, of his being…

Then was when Rafael realized- they all expected him to crumble. To fall apart. He had always been the capable one, the one to hold the seams of the unit together when it appeared as if the only option was for it to fall apart. The glue had melted, had bubbled and abandoned purpose- nothing could contain his rage, at this assailant, at the knowledge that there were three more. 

“You’re a bastard-” If he was to be escorted out, he would let his final judgment be known. Obviously he’d be asked to recluse himself from this case, and he’d welcome the hit on his legal career with staggering bravado. It’d be worth it. More than worth it- to tell this on of a bitch what he thought of him. “You raped my wife, MY beautiful wife-” Rafael slammed his own fist into his chest, an act of possessive profession, the last bit of composure he attempted to withhold. There was no _composure_ , not for him. 

If you were damned with nightmares,  
He’d go down damned for confronting them.

“You’ll pay, you’ll pay with everything-” Amanda guided the counselor from the interrogation room, whispering miscellaneous ‘hush’es and other kind words in hopes to silence his insolence. Meanwhile, the target of his rage meekly sunk into his chair, wishing he could disappear instead of dealing with the confrontation. This had spiraled seriously, rapidly. “You’ll serve time for every moment you laid your goddamn hands on her-” Rollins prayed his outburst would be forgiven by the media, by anyone in control of his legal career. The world knew he was right, wanted to spout the words on the tips of his tongue- but it took the great Counselor’s cool to be lost in order for them to be said. “No john will sleep tonight, knowing what happened to you will be coming to them-”

“Barba!” The interrogation room was slammed shut, and Rafael Barba was drug haplessly to the other room by Fin and Amanda. “Barba, chill the Hell out, you’re just talking now-” Fin tried to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but was gruffly shrugged off moments after offering the affection. The trio turned, upon hearing the ‘Andy’ shuffle across from Benson in the interrogation room.  


“I think I’m gonna need a lawyer,” the man mumbled thoughtfully, still staring at the door which the well-dressed prosecution attorney had been dragged from. “Yea I’m not saying anything until I get a lawyer-”  


“Now what?” Amanda grumped, and pointed at the damned man through the glass. Rafael wasted no time, shrugging the holds off of him and pressing past so he could gather his jacket in his hands.  


“Call Rita-” Who else would Rafael trust with such a task? His career, his wife’s well being and her return of confidence? The one bitch that got shit done under his nose every which way he turned- the one he cringed for when learning he’d have to face her. “Call Rita Calhoun and tell her I’m on my way to see her.”  


Time to pull out the big guns. Time to bring you real justice.  
In any way he can, even if he couldn’t be the one to do it.

He damn well knew who could.


	9. Asking Assistance

Ms. Calhoun did not look amused. “I thought they were kidding when they said you were coming.” Comfortable, maybe, considering the over-sized robe that appeared to be made of the finest fuzzy material. Tired, definitely. “It’s late.” Apparently she wasn’t particularly happy to see him, either. He couldn’t blame her.

Rafael nodded to confirm, offered a slight smile, and sarcastically rocked on his heel to take a theatrical glance out the nearby window. “I’ve noticed.”

She rolled her eyes, dramatically enough to be certain he could see it. There was a point to prove, after all. “Why are you here, so late?” Rita was speaking through the crack in the door, as if he were there to do something more awful than interrupt her beauty sleep. “What do you want?” That was offense enough, in her opinion. If she had to start considering midnight meetings routine, she’d need a higher retainer fee.

His words choked in his throat before he finally managed to spit them out, a phrase he wouldn’t have imagined finding in his future: “Rita, I need you-”

“Oh Barba;” she sassily fluttered her fingers to her chest, feigning modesty amidst the apparent flattery. The wee hours don’t drown out her iconic attitude, he noted. “I thought you’d never ask, but I’m afraid I’m not interested.“ Rita wagged her head side to side, and pretended to be ready to close the door. “If that Amaro ever needs me, though-” a teasing growl escaped her throat, as she rest her head on the moulding around the frame.

Rafael chuckled, and pressed his own forehead against the wooden door, hard enough to make a ‘thud’. He was so, so tired; her jokes were actually appreciated. At least someone was in a pleasant mood, he could use a good laugh. “Rita,” he went to start again, trying to think of a wit-proof way to swallow his pride and do that damned deed: ask for her help. Why was this so hard, Benson has done it before. He should have sent her. "It’s been a long day, and-”

To his delight, without having to fumble over his own tongue anything further, she shut the door in his face. Clink; rang the slip of the lock, and he smiled to himself, at least there’d be a chance to explain his surprise appearance. “You look pathetic when you grovel,” Rita grunted, before opening the entrance and allowing him in. “I’d offer coffee but I haven’t brewed any yet, and don’t intend to until the morning.”

“I’m more in the mood for bourbon than coffee,” He conceded, and obediently followed her through the dimly lit apartment to her living room. She motioned for the sofa, and he sat, while she eagerly went about procuring glasses and the requested booze. Bourbon sounded better than caffeine, anyway. Likely, if there was a reason for the ADA to approach a Defense attorney; they both could use a stiff drink.

“So, other than to impress me with your shameless flattery and your pocket square,” Rita sat his drink in front of him, and poured a hefty one for herself just before taking a seat across the coffee table. “What brings you to bothering me, so late?” So late, it really was unorthodox. Emergencies happened, but she wasn’t working on a case he was involved in. Of course, after the detectives alerted her he was on his way, she came to a few of her own conclusions- but would the illustrious Rafael Barba really ask for her help on a matter so close to his heart?

Only one way to find out: She lifted her glass, and he did the same- a toast. To understanding, to each other.

Rafael took a swig, and reclined far enough into the sofa to easily pinch the bridge of his nose between two fingertips. “They’re gonna force me to recuse myself-”

“From your wife’s case?” Her nail ran along the edge of her own glass, as she carefully examined the exhausted ADA. It wasn’t often, in fact she could probably count them all on one hand, when he bit off more than he could chew. This time, his eyes for justice had been much larger than his stomach. “You really surprised?“ She started to chuckle, but ceased quickly. He probably didn’t find that as humorous as she did. "I was shocked they let you anywhere near it.”

She was right, but he wouldn’t admit it. Not yet. At least, it’d take a few more drinks before he went too far complimenting her. “Yea, well, I may have lost my cool a little bit during an interrogation.” A little bit. If he had been one of the detectives, he’d have Hell to pay. Hopefully this wouldn’t affect the investigation or prosecution too much, but he wasn’t sure. “It’s hard, just… I can’t keep myself at the professional distance required.” Damnit, he sounded like a judge.

Rita nodded; “Understandably.” Her nose crunched as she considered the situation. Of course, she didn’t know all the intricacies, but she had seen plenty on the news and in the papers. Most tidbits had been dismissed as rumors, and she wouldn’t justify those with her thoughts or concerns. “So you need new counsel,” all she really knew was that the wife he had wasted years searching for had been with the other girls retrieved from that dead pimp’s (good riddance) home. It was known, mostly due to his shortened hours of availability, that his wife’s ordeal had been so horrendous that it demanded therapy and consistent company; how he dealt with the Queen of PTSD was above her understanding and comprehension, his love for her must be as relentless as his prosecution.

But, Rita would definitely love to be involved in this fight. Especially if it meant enough to bring the ADA she faced off against so often to her door. Calhoun, leading the fight to justice. Had a nice ring to it.

“And honestly,” Rafael tipped his glass her direction, breaking her concentration, and held it high in the air to represent a toast; “You’re the only attorney that makes me shake in my shoes.” The uncommon kind words were met with a curious raised brow from the recipient, and a subtle upwards curl at the corners of her lips. “It’d mean the world if we could use your prowess.”

Okay, how could she say no to the begging disguised as flattery that he’d probably rather choke on than repeat? It was music to her ears, and she was ready to be the conductor. Rita rose to her feet, and leaned over the table so she could appropriately clink their drinks to seal their new agreement.

“Let’s get these assholes,” she mumbled thoughtfully before knocking back the rest of her drink, and Rafael ardently killed the remainder of his own.

Cheers, to an unlikely partnership.

—

Carisi was amazed.

Like a planned ballet, you performed every task he had been pre-warned about, to the T. You stood two steps behind while pausing for him to enter the home first, waited patiently and rocked on your toes in expectation of him illuminating the entrance, and then glided gracefully in the moment light reflected off the crystals on the chandelier dangling above your heads. Sonny smirked as you passed him, feeling rather accomplished- you had purposely stayed steps away from him the whole way here.

“Thank you, Carisi,” you tapped at his shoulder with the pad of your middle finger- which surprised the poor, on-edge man enough to make him jump. Before he could properly accept your gratitude, you had floated off, and went to work diligently flipping every switch and tugging on each light cord you came across. Did you just touch him? He felt honored, oddly enough.

While you went along to brighten up every corner of the condo, Sonny followed closely behind. “You need help?” He asked, loudly, so that you could hear him no matter where you had meandered off to; it was hard to keep up when he didn’t know where you were going. Speak up, don’t surprise her, don’t scare her- all the instructions remained prominent in his thoughts. Again, he called out to you, since he apparently lost you somewhere between the hallway and the living room; “Or do you just… do it all yourself?“

His walk around a corner came with a brief confrontation- you standing stoically in place with an apron draped over your arms. For one of the rules being not to sneak up on you, you sure had a knack of providing the surprises. The sudden appearance startled him, and you flinched when he jumped to face your way. “Do what?” Confusion: despite every bulb in your wake being lit. Carisi couldn’t help but chuckle at your bewilderment, he hadn’t considered it being more of a tick than a preference.

Apparently, you didn’t know how well you lit up a room. Seeing as how happy Barba had been ever since your return- Sonny wasn’t surprised at your abilities.

“Nothin,” He wandered through any of the rooms that hadn’t been disturbed as of yet when you disappeared again, curiously checking bathrooms and closets as he’d do for anyone he was sent to watch over. Barba would have his head on a platter if he messed this up, after all. Plus; he couldn’t help but feel good about himself, and the trust you two were instilling in him. You were Rafael’s most precious piece of life, the best part of his days- the whole crew knew when it was you texting him because he’d smile just so at the phone. Yet, of anyone there- Barba had HIM take you home, and you brought yourself to tap HIS shoulder when most people had to take note of how close they were to you.

Basically; he was so glad to be able to help.

He followed the sound of your humming, and found you fishing items out of the refrigerator. “Detective Carisi, are you hungry?” You paused while balancing a large bowl of vegetables on your hip, "I could cook up some dinner for us, save Rafael a plate for when he gets home.”

The professional terminology was getting old, and he would greatly prefer for you to not have to spout a mouthful every time you referred to him. “You can call me Sonny,“ He advised happily while plucking a few of your supplies from your arms, to help you place them on the counter. "Barba does sometimes.”

“When does he call you that?” Your head cocked to the side, and he nervously put a hand on the back of his neck.

Barba rarely called him Sonny, which was probably why you had bothered to ask. “Doesn’t matter, but you can do it.” He shrugged it off , and you rolled your eyes before twisting to get back to work. Cooking calmed you, gave you something to do and think about. It brought relatively quick rewards, too; it felt good to provide food for others, especially good food. Your therapist had suggested a hobby, and when you chose culinary skills, Rafael had immediately gone to fetch the best pots and pans to accompany the array of cookbooks that were suddenly lining the shelves.

It was getting late, but you weren’t up for sleeping. The damned demons that were your dreams would have to hunt you down until you could sink into your safety net of limbs and whispered lullabies that was Rafael. It was nice having Carisi there, you’d much prefer anyone around in lieu of being alone- but nobody could compare to just having your Rafael near…

Until then, you’d thank your new friend for his protective efforts. With Dinner.

—

Rafael got home late, late enough that your battle to avoid sleep appeared to have been lost. Curled up, hair cascading over the arm of the sofa, a large ivory blanket covering you from toes to chin. Upon hearing the door open, he watched you shudder, and curl further into your spot lied across the cushions. Between the door and hearing you shuffle, Carisi must have been alerted- he popped around the corner with a towel for drying his hands.

As always, your sweet husband immediately crossed the room to you. His sweet, sleepy angel. Delicately, he took a seat by your feet, and waited patiently to decipher the mood you were in: would you want touched, or prefer to be left alone?

He waved a hand in front of your face, and you didn’t move. Delicately, Rafael brushed a few strands of your hair behind your ear, and again- you didn’t so much as twitch. Surprise washed over him, though it was a delightful sort of shock; your independence was a bittersweet gift sometimes. Of course, he was grateful you managed to fall asleep before this ungodly hour, but this was the first time you had managed to find solace without him directly nearby. He wouldn’t wake you yet, he decided, and instead went to thank Carisi for being so willing to stay this late.

However, he hadn’t expected him to be handling such domestic duties…

“She was exhausted, Counselor-” Carisi was speaking in a heightened whisper, despite how he was likely already out of earshot in the kitchen. Water was streaming in the background, Rafael wandered towards his voice to find him diligently washing pots and pans. “Passed out shortly after dinner,” He nodded to prove his competency, speaking about her as if she were a child on a schedule instead of a fully functioning adult. It was appreciated, even if it sounded condescending to anyone ignorant of their situation. “I threw the blanket on her, dug for it in the closet, hope you don’t mind-”

“No, no,” He wagged his head side to side, and decided not to offer assistance with the dishes. After the day he had, there was no energy for chores left in his bones. “Was she alright, with you around?” Rafael leaned back against the counter top, and watched idly as the detective drained the water from the sink.

Another pleasant surprise: Carisi nodded eagerly. "Yea, she did everything you said though,” once the cleaned utensils were put away and the other dishes were left for drying on a sunflower towel, he jokingly bumped elbows with his exhausted colleague, “she cooks a mean dinner too, we saved a plate for you but I’m stealing leftovers.” They both chuckled, and once again, Rafael found himself desperately thankful for the eccentric detective. Once the jocular air died down, Carisi decided to ask the real question, while shrugging his jacket over his shoulders- “How did the interrogation go?” He had to know before he left.

“Poorly,” Rafael mumbled it mostly, and shook his head while going to escort his friend to the exit. “I might have said a bit too much…”

Instead of berating him for losing his cool, or demanding further explanation- Carisi only shrugged. “Can’t blame you,” he glanced over his shoulder, to see you still wrapped in blankets as he had left you. “She’s a great lady, Barba, you two are a match for the ages.”

The first sincerely genuine smile he’d been able to manage that day finally shone through, and Rafael nodded while placing a heavy hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “I got lucky, Sonny,” he whispered it, and opened the door so he could be sure to lock it behind him. “Thank you for everything, I’d have been lost without you today. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He bobbed his head vibrantly, and hugged the tupperware you had prepared for him tightly to his chest. “Absolutely anytime…. Rafael…”

—

“Darling,” Rafael went to crouching, and lay his fingertips along the tassels of the blanket Carisi had so carefully draped over you. “Mi amor,” it became a lullaby, but one he hoped would rouse you instead of the typically intended lulling. Delicately, oh so gracefully, he traced a fingertip along your shoulder. Within moments, your eyelids fluttered open at the gentle touch.

At first, you were startled awake, and he knowingly leaned back to stay out of reach as your arms shot away from your body. Pushing at air, at the ghosts you had nearly forgotten until they were brought back for your condemnation. You had been doing so well, Rafael reassured you consistently- but pointing out your assailants in the lineup had apparently affected you more than you thought. Of course, you hadn’t intended on falling asleep; last you could recall, Sonny had offered to do the dishes and you had been sitting on the sofa working on a Sudoku.

“Shhh,” He hushed you, and lay his hand on your cheek to guide your eyes his direction. Immediately upon realizing it was Rafael, you curled your fingers around his wrist, and coddled your face into his touch. Perhaps it had only been a handful of hours since you saw him last, but you still missed him as if it had been forever. “Mi amor, I’m home now,“ his forehead pressed against yours, and you smiled to yourself from within the comfort of your fuzzy fortress. Home, his arrival was announced every time he came in through those doors, your husband telling you how he was Home was the loveliest part of your day; just as it had been the most wonderful moment in years when he told you how he’d take you Home. Despite already existing in his condo, it wasn’t Home until he was back in it with you.

"I love you,” You responded sleepily, sweet words not quite managing to find their way to your tongue. Life was exhausting, and somehow you had managed to find some rest- dragging yourself back to consciousness was draining.

Knowingly, Rafael guided your back so you sat up, at least long enough for him to wrap an arm around your back. “I love you, Darling.” He pressed his face against your neck, inhaling the remainder of your perfume in a moment of reverence. You coiled arms around his neck, and laced fingers in his hair. “Let’s go to bed, alright?” Though he was speaking against your skin, you nodded in determined agreement- that sounded absolutely lovely. His other arm went under your thighs, and he expertly whisked you up from your spot on the sofa. Bridal style, Rafael began the steady trek to the bedroom, and you gratefully went to delivering your thanks via silky kisses along his throat. Brief memories of him fumbling with you the night of your wedding came to mind, and you giggled airily to yourself.

“Did you get whatever you needed to do done?” Now may not be the time for conversation, but he was always a captive audience when it was just you two. Your man simply nodded, and you thought you could see a subtle smile spread across his face. Apparently he wouldn’t indulge you with details, though you weren’t exactly all that concerned about them. Nothing really mattered when it was only you two.

As if you were the most fragile flower he’d ever encountered, Rafael gracefully lay you down atop the bed. He made quick work of discarding his work clothes, not even bothering to fold or hang the elaborate accessories. They were abandoned, expensive materials meeting exquisite hardwood floors, as he eagerly hopped atop the bed with you. By the time he joined you, you had already burrowed deep within the blankets; so naturally, he performed the same task so he could absorb some of your warmth.

Instinctively, even in your drowsy state, you were drawn to him. His manly scent, the joy of his touch- you ran your fingertips along his arms from elbows to hands, until you could lace your fingers in his own. He let you settle, your curves and bones finding the appropriate places to lay alongside his, until you two went from being lost puzzle pieces to a complete picture.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, right?” Rafael liked whispering little promises to you; regarding his love, capability, fidelity. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to protect you, Darling.”

“I know, Rafael;” Using his torso as leverage, you lifted yourself, so you could convince him to gift you with a goodnight kiss- though it certainly didn’t take much coercion. “And I love you for it,” you spoke against his lips, before pressing yours to them again. His smile- you could feel it, and the effects included causing your lips to curl up too. 

Oh what would you do without him, without your daring man? Slaying the monsters from your past and sending you off to be protected by his knights, not letting them near enough to hurt you again. He didn’t need to remind you of his protection, you were starting to feel its omnipresence. Starting to trust it. Your world spun because Rafael set it on its axis, carried the weight upon his shoulders, reached out to fellow allies to assist in any way you may need.

Actually, thanks to his willingness to assemble a team to help keep an eye over you- you found yourself almost willing to accept the assistance. To trust, beyond your silver lining of a man. Just another lesson taught at his able hands;

Not everyone was evil, after all…


	10. Afraid Of Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to request [HERE](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/155500208702/how-would-rafael-react-in-home-again-if-reader-is), by @mrschiltoncat  
> re: **How would Rafael react in home again if reader is worried she won’t be able to be intimate again?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> I was afraid that you’d be afraid if I told you that I was afraid of intimacy…_

Rafael sighed, loudly, when your lips fell eagerly onto his. Delicately, as if the subtle touch would be the pinch to pull him from this delightful dream- he lowered his hands until they just barely grazed the silk of your nightgown. Your pout parted and it felt like the opening of the pearly gates, he even pulled away just slightly so he could confirm you had indeed intended to deepen the kiss. Was it a mistake, would you correct it? Once you leaned in to follow after him, closing the modest gap he had created to hopefully maintain your comfort- his brows bounced, but he happily obliged you.

He felt like a hopeful school boy, fumbling with a woman for the first time.  
It had been far, _far_ too long.

“Mi amor-” he tried to speak, but you interrupted, with a gentle nip on his bottom lip. Whatever he had to say was unimportant- you had been hoping to give him this all day. Your affection, a physical token of your adoration: oh how hard your man had been trying to keep the world spinning smoothly for you. Leaving work early when he heard you sobbing on the other end of the line, asking detectives to come check on you when you’d report an odd noise go bump in the night when he was trapped in a meeting, always coddling you close to his side whenever he convinced you to muster the bravado to accompany him out on the town.

No, despite your struggles or how you’d leap away at the sounds of the city or a sudden flash of light- Rafael never left your side. Never made excuses for your behavior, demanded understanding from the onlookers with his stoic silence and obvious displays of acceptance. When you two were out together, none of your reactions were odd or misplaced, at least they never felt that way. _‘You’re okay,’_ he’d whisper subtly before pulling you past the catalyst to your sudden fears, _‘I’m right here.’_

He was always there- right there. Even if he was physically miles away from you; Rafael was a phone call away, a simple text from hailing a cab and making his way to your side. You were never alone, would never be again, and it was all because of his love.

After two years of Hell and a few months of flourishing in his care- you wanted to give him something. Anything, really, but what did you really have to give? Rafael didn’t need comfort, he was being strong enough for the both of you, had been doing so since the beginning. You didn’t work, and you already provided dinner every evening; your courage now allowed you to walk down to the corner market all by yourself.

“Mi amor-” Again, with all the self restraint he could muster, which was increasingly difficult with how hard you were trying to give him the one thing he hadn’t dared asked from you: intimacy. Loving you was easy, caring for you felt commonplace and necessary, but **needing** you the way he did… it had made him feel wrong for so long. 

Of course, when spoken aloud or while venting to one of his few confidants he had- it made logical sense. Rafael hadn’t touched anyone while you were away, couldn’t bring himself to even when his frustration hit an uncomfortable peak. Two long years without affection; he had substituted your fingertips with the flash of cameras and quests for justice, had drowned his longings with Bourbon and Scotch until he found the bottom of the bottles. Even when he had to satisfy himself: he imagined you, in that lingerie you used to have far too much of, in the dress you wore on your wedding day. He’d close his eyes and recall the way you used to hold him, touch him, slither against him when he’d come home late from the office and finally make it to bed.

Even after finding you and bringing you home- he never pressed the matter. Any bit of love you could give him was wondrous and insurmountable, he was utterly thankful each and every time your fingertips skimmed his skin, he imagined the heavenly harp whenever you could bring your lips to his. “Rafi,” you spoke his pet name and he couldn’t help himself; Rafael moaned into your mouth and nearly forgot his own ardent protests. His face was held in your gentle hands, your silken thighs pressed against the outside of his pajama bottoms. The pressure of your touch, the paradise of your existence, the heat in your kiss- it was both difficult to breathe, and easier than it ever had been before.

“ _Your Name_ -” Carefully, he raised his own hands to curl around your wrists, and you galantly fought through the shiver that threatened your sweet moment. “Mi amor, I’m,” embarrassment, just slight enough to confuse you, but the hint was received when he twist beneath your legs. From your precarious position hovering above him and the lack of restraint due to his soft pants, his growing arousal was becoming obvious- you could feel the tent hit your leg as he made feeble attempts to not bother you with it. His forehead leaned against yours, and he sighed again; you ran your thumbs along his jaw line in reassurance of his honesty. “I’m getting excited, I’m worried I’ll-”

“Rafi, let me,” you begged in a whisper, low and sultry, while unblushingly lowering yourself so you’d be sat atop the very situation he was trying to hide. There was still plenty material between you: your panties, his cotton bottoms, his boxers. Yet still- this was further than you had managed before, without trembling. “You do so much for me, Darling, let me do this for you-”

Oh, how he wanted to. More than most anything, Rafael wanted to let you do absolutely anything you desired to him. No restrictions, no rules, no restraint- his head unintentionally leaned back against the pillows when he felt your warmth in his lap. His hands fell, back to your hips, and he cautiously toyed with the lace hem separating the gown from your skin. While peeking through his lids, he let his thumbs slip to your thighs, and a hot blush rose to his cheeks when you made no efforts to stop him. “I do so much because I love you, mi amor,” his voice was hoarse, desperate, and you pressing your lips to his neck certainly didn’t help him catch his breath. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

You already knew that, though; you didn’t have to do anything. No, and that was the difference: you wanted to. For him, for the ‘us’ that you knew still existed, buried deep down under the painful anxiety and memories that plagued your dreams much less often than they did before. Perhaps he had managed to plaster your face on the inside of his lids while you were away- but you hadn’t dared. Your moments of intimacy had been so long ago, it felt like a distant memory that was nearly out of reach: the men who had been with you while you were in captivity were nothing like your man, you could have never associated what they did to you with the gentle hands you had missed for so long. “I want to give you everything, though-” your lips found his ear, and you nipped on the sensitive lobe before moving along to the hollow of his throat.

Again, Rafael nearly lost himself. Was it the feathery sensation of your pout on his skin, setting him on fire? Was it how you unblushingly rocked your hips downward, as you went to kiss at his chest instead of trying to reassure him with your ardent, whispered begging?

Between his bewilderment and arousal- he debated giving in. If this was what you wanted to do, who was he to stop you? Should he? Instead of arguing any further, his fingertips tangled with the material of your slip, and he so delicately rose it up to bunch at your waist. Not to rush your unveiling, no, but just to feel the soft skin of your hips under his palms, skin he hadn’t had proper opportunity to touch yet. Hesitation; on either end of the reaction, and you both froze momentarily to gauge the other. So you proceeded on, as did his fingers, and you left sloppy pecks along his collarbone as one hand of his slid up your skirt just so he could feel the bumps in the staircase of your spine- the strong backbone he admired you for. 

Involuntarily, when your clumsy teeth left a mark in the hollow of his throat, Rafael tightened. His hips rocked upwards instinctively, forcing his hard member against the lace concealing your private garden; his fingers jumped on your back and his nails accidentally left indents on your skin; his face buried into your hair and his free hand coiled around your waist to bring you close so he could feel your warmth against him. 

You didn’t mean to feel the rush of anxiety any more than he had meant to make you feel trapped- but it was quickly clear from your genuine whimpering that something had gone terribly wrong. A flashback, though you attempted to bite it back and bury it away in your mind- it came flooding back when it felt harder to breathe, to move. Trapped, just like in your now infrequent nightmares, no not now, _please_ -

Too quick. Too tight. Too fast. You tried to hide it, oh you tried- harder than you’ve ever attempted to hide anything from your dear husband. Honesty had always been a crutch for the both of you: if anything was wrong, you’d merely have to explain what, and Rafael would gladly leap to secure a solution. This, though: you didn’t want to be honest. You wanted to work through the struggle, to force it, to bring peace to his tossing and turning in the night- why couldn’t you? What good were you if you couldn’t even satisfy your man?

Unfortunately for your martyrism, your tears betrayed you; and Rafael would not let you go on. No, absolutely not, as much as his body desired nothing more than joining with yours- he would not allow you to sacrifice yourself for it. “No;” he insisted, gruffly, while removing his hands from your skin so he could readjust himself to be shielded once more inside of his pants. “Please stop, por favor mi amor,” it wasn’t worth it, by any means. 

While you buried your face in your hands, he earnestly used firm hands on your hips to move you off of him, so you sat at his side. Once satisfied, Rafael shifted so he could rise to his knees, and he coiled arms around your shoulders to pull you against his chest. Soft, sweet, fragile kisses were placed along your hair line and atop your forehead. His fingers curled around your upper arms and you melted into his embrace.

“I wanted to-” Sniffling, and you craned your neck so you could peer up at his lovely face through your lashes. “I wanted to give you… me… anything-”

“Oh Honey,” guilt spun through his blood, even though he hadn’t pushed for the contact in the first place. “You give me so much already.”

You shook your head, your hair falling loosely about your shoulders. Rafael tried to brush the strands from your face but you twist to refuse him. You didn’t deserve his unbreakable understanding, the relentless benevolence he consistently bestowed on you. “I’m only a bother,” he could barely make out what you said through your crying, “What do I give you other than a headache and another responsibility?”

His face twisted- if you didn’t think you knew better, you’d have thought he looked offended. “A reason to wake up in the morning,” Rafael began bluntly, all the hesitation and sensitivity in his voice dissipated as he went on. “You give me a reason to not get lost in my work, a reason to come home-” You curled up, pulling your knees to your chest, and he happily cradled you against him, holding you like he would a downtrodden child. “I wasted so much of my life while you were away,” his turn to choke up, though he buried it in his chest, “Every moment I have you here, with me-” his nose pressed into your cheek, so he could keep his voice low and not risk his own tears falling. “It’s a blessing. You’re my blessing, mi amor.”

“But you’re a man, Rafi,” his words had soothed some of your nerves, but not all of them, “if I can’t satisfy you then…. you have _needs_ , Rafi-”

It wasn’t rough, he was never rough with you: but at the mention of your perceived inability to satisfy him, his fingers curled under your chin. You had been avoiding eye contact, confronting the situation, but no longer. He unashamedly manipulated your face so the only option left was to gaze up at him, and his serious expression met yours as if he were an accused man pleading his case. “ **You** are all I need, you’re all I’ve ever needed,” he spoke slowly, loudly, precisely. No room for interpretation or discussion. “Even if I _never_ have you in that way again, just you being here satisfies any need I could have… do you understand?”

So, instead of wallowing in the pity of your self-implemented inadequacies any further, you nodded. What else could you do? You’ve trusted Rafael exclusively ever since he first won your heart- the least you could give him in return of his consistent efforts was your trust. “I love you, Rafael,” you sniffed through your tears, and he delicately worked to urge you to lie down in the bed with a loving hand on your sternum. It was getting late, he needed to regain his composure- and he’d much rather you get a good night of sleep than waste the evening worrying about him.

“I love you, _Your Name_.” He was happy to remind you, just as he had done time and time again. “Now rest,” the suggestion was accompanied with an oh-so innocent kiss to your temple, just before he went to work pulling up the comforters to cover the both of you. “We’re meeting with your new attorney tomorrow, and trust me- you’ll need a full night’s sleep to deal with her…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you don’t have a problem with my problem, maybe the problem’s simply codependency…_


End file.
